Like It or Not
by Celestial Clusters
Summary: AU. Eventual UKxUS. Unpopular, overweight, nerdy, and bullied, high school junior Alfred F. Jones is slowly reaching the end of his rope. Arthur Kirkland, a senior, has nearly everything his heart desires...except a love life. When the spark is lit, Arthur is determined to make Alfred his. After all, he always gets what he wants.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I lied a bit. Eh heh, to be honest I was so excited about writing a high school AU I just went ahead and jumped right into it before finishing my other fic first... I'm having a lot of fun with this idea, so I couldn't really resist. I tried to put a spin on the whole high school prompt... I hope it's interesting, ahh. Anyway, despite this being a bit early, I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Warnings:** Eventual UKxUS. High school AU. Human names used. Involves cases of bullying. A slight trigger warning for self-hate. Mild swearing. Character/fandom belong to their respective owners.

* * *

The first day of school was always the worst. It was filled to the brim with awkward introductions, uncomfortable change, and the usual whirlwind of disaster. The first day meant he had to see his peers again, and _that _was probably what he dreaded the most.

He preferred walking to school. It took him nearly thirty minutes to get there if he took the route through the woods behind his home, but that was okay. His journey gave him an opportunity to muse and to, for once, relax. Sometimes the walk was lonely, but he had to admit, he had grown used to feeling lost. But when it came down to it, he would rather take the dark, quiet, lonesome path than to take the bus. The school transportation meant he'd be sitting alone on the brown seat, with one of the quarterbacks leaning over his chair just to mess with him.

And he got enough of that during the day.

He always ducked into the nearest boy's bathroom when he reached campus. It was always empty. He would stand in front of the mirror that hung on one of the ugly brick walls and study himself while he constantly checked his watch. He couldn't help but wrinkle up his nose at his reflection. His blonde hair had that dumb cowlick, his glasses were _huge, _his skin wasn't smooth and his forehead was engulfed with acne. He was much shorter than the other boys. He would let his eyes roam down to study his clothing, taking in the sight of the pinstripe shirt and bowtie and suspenders that held up his jeans. He had weight rapidly accumulating in his midsection and it was showing through the fabric of his shirt. He would turn in little half-circles in front of the mirror and study his body, pinching his stomach in the process. When it came down to it, the more Alfred looked, the more he hated his body. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. He felt fat and weird and isolated.

The other kids didn't like him, and he didn't really like himself either.

He would wait in the bathroom until his friend arrived. Well, perhaps more of an acquaintance. He was not quite sure at this point. He liked to believe they were friends, but… Outside of school, they didn't talk much at all. They never hung out or anything. Still, he could at least hope he could call _someone _his friend. Ivan was his name, and he was built just like a stone pillar, tall and huge and square. Ivan had a short haircut, and the color reminded the boy of snow. Ivan had transferred from Russia last year in the spring. His accent was so thick it was hard to understand him; his grammar was also horrendous, for his English was still very weak. Alfred didn't know a whole lot about the boy's background, but he knew for sure the family wasn't rich. Perhaps that was why he was in this current situation of his...

"Alfred, how summer?" He tried to ask, his lack of connection to the language showing now. The pair walked alongside each other in the flood of students. Ivan glanced down at the other, completely towering over him. Alfred had yet to grow like the others, looking like an ant in the crowd of boys.

"Too short," Alfred shrugged a bit, tightly clutching the strap of his backpack. As if on cue, he was bumped roughly, hearing a hiss of "_move, dweeb" _in his ear. He shrank into himself slightly, his grip so tight on the strap of his bag that his knuckles turned white. "I didn't really do much though… Dad was gone most of the time so I just kinda stayed home… The usual. What about you?"

Ivan hummed a bit, seeming to be thinking of how to answer.

"Went…" Ivan trailed off briefly, seeming to be searching for the proper term. "Home? Went back."

They had shifted through the crowded corridor by now. Ivan had led the way this entire time, and Alfred had to admit he felt a flare of jealousy in his gut. The students easily parted for Ivan. Alfred was not sure if they simply felt sorry for him, or if they were intimidated by his size. After all, how tall did he say he was again? Six feet and a few inches? Regardless, Alfred was always the one to be getting shoved aside.

And he really hated it.

"It must have been a big change to stay here then go back to all that snow," Alfred said absently, studying the pattern on the tiled flooring. "I wish it would snow here like that…"

"It is nice," Ivan replied, now watching Alfred. The other had slid one arm out from under the strap of his backpack. The bag hung sideways now, and the shorter male had unzipped it, rummaging through various binders and folders.

At last he extracted a wrinkled, folded sheet of yellow paper. Alfred waved it slightly as he gripped it by one corner, managing to unfold it. He didn't bother to look up, having to nearly yell for Ivan to hear him properly. The height difference really irked him.

"Let me see your schedule."

Ivan frowned at first, not seeming to understand. He bent over to inspect the paper in Alfred's hand, before something flashed in those bright eyes, and he began to move, now comprehending. He rummaged through the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the sheet, before handing it to Alfred.

The smaller began to compare the two sheets of paper. He let out a sharp grunt as someone had bumped into him, despite how far away from the main walkway they were. He squirmed back until his spine hit the white wall, and he refocused his attention on the task at hand.

No classes together. Ah, Alfred should have known better. He was in nearly all advanced classes, sans electives. Ivan was smart, sure, but with the language barrier, he surely wouldn't be able to keep up with everyone else. Even if he knew he should not have gotten his hopes up, Alfred felt a little sink in his gut. At least they had lunch together…

He had really been hoping that Ivan would be in his gym class again. That was how they met last spring. It had been an accident, Alfred supposed. The two of them were basically isolated from the remainder of the group. They had been picked last no matter what sport they played and even then, they simply lingered at the back of the group because no one wanted anything to do with them.

It had been a basketball game if he remembered correctly. He had been standing near the back at the sidelines, using the toe of one shoe to draw patterns on the floor. He vaguely remembered someone yelling his name, and the ball smacking him right between the eyes.

He could remember lying on the floor on his back. Of course there was laughter in his eardrums and stars twinkled just above his eyes. Ivan had helped him up and dusted him off with one palm. He hadn't laughed, and tried to joke about the bruise that was trying to form on Alfred's forehead.

It was a twisted event, sure, but it had formed at least some sort of bond between the two outcasts.

Alfred handed the schedule back to Ivan and clutched his own tightly in his anxious hands. He could handle going to class by himself, but in a way, gym was on a whole different level. Gym stressed him out and could make him feel isolated despite the room being filled with people. He hated that class and he didn't really want to face it alone, but he had no choice in the matter.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get some breakfast."

They then began their journey to the cafeteria. It was always crowded at breakfast hours, so the usual flood of people was not really surprising to Alfred. He let Ivan lead the way as usual. When they had made it to the line, Alfred did most of the talking. Ivan had courteously bent over a bit so Alfred did not have to scream over the din of noise surrounding them both. They talked a small bit, just simple sentences about their classes and break over the hot months. The line moved relatively quickly and the pair managed to find two empty seats at the end of one table. A good two or three seats on each side of them stayed open; Alfred knew no one really wanted to be close to them. No one would talk to them, let alone sit by them.

He absently began to shake the carton of orange juice. Ivan had begun to talk a bit about Russia, mainly his home and family. His speech was hard to follow; Alfred found himself zoning a bit, just studying the surrounding student body.

Oh, everything worked in such large groups of cliques… Alfred noticed that easily enough. It was really easy to tell with the girls. When it came to the boys, he could always tell who played sports and who didn't. He could even tell who was on the football team, the soccer team, and the basketball team.

Then again, it was rather obvious if you looked hard enough. The football players were usually larger. The men's soccer players always dyed their hair blonde at the start of the season. It was the little things that helped Alfred piece it all together, one step at a time.

And figuring out people was easy too! Since no one talked to Alfred, he spent most of his time listening. He knew easily who was dating who, who was going where on the weekends, who had drama with someone else… He knew when each team had a game, he knew who hated a certain teammate, and he knew the captain of each team.

But there was one that seemed to stand out a bit from the others.

Alfred had seen him in the halls several times over the past year or two. Girls practically swarmed him and the boys seemed to always enjoy his company too, always laughing and joking with him. Arthur Kirkland was his name, and Alfred had heard he hailed from England. He was captain of the soccer team, and he was rather proud of it too. Alfred had gotten close to him once by mistake; Arthur wound up running into him, his bag hitting Alfred squarely in the side as he hurried down one of the halls. But to Alfred's surprise, he had turned his head and shouted an apology down the corridor before he vanished from sight.

And even though it was nothing more than a split second, Alfred remembered it as if it was yesterday.

Arthur had wonderful green eyes and his hair seemed like a disaster no matter what day it was. He had eyebrows the size of Texas and a jaw that was slightly square; his whole body seemed toned, and Alfred guessed it was from playing sports. He was pale but there were freckles forming on his arms and face from the kiss of sunlight.

He had seen Arthur practice before. When he used to stay after hours in the library to do homework, and came outside, the team was always practicing out on the field. From the glimpses he had seen, he could tell a variety of things. Arthur was quick. He had a powerful kick as well.

Alfred had been fascinated at the time. He had approached the chain link fence and leaned upon it, just watching the team. Alfred was no good at sports. He was heavy and clumsy and no one really wanted him on their team anyway. But the boys he had been watching were the exact opposite. They were all skinny and toned, and moved so gracefully despite what they were doing.

Alfred watched quietly that day. The coach led the team, tweeting the whistle all the while. Arthur seemed to be leading the drills. Alfred watched them race between cones with the ball, nudging it with the tips of their cleats. He watched them work together, kicking the ball with the inside of their feet, passing it back and forth as they charged up and down the field. He watched them line up in front of the goal and kick. He noticed that Arthur had made the most goals out of everyone else.

When the team got a water break though, they paid more attention to Alfred. A few of the boys started to shout at him, teasing words coming out of their mouths. Alfred saw Arthur deliver a swift stomp onto the top of one boy's foot, but he didn't bother to stick around to watch anymore.

He had decided to walk home instead and drown himself in his books to avoid thinking.

But that made two incidents that Arthur acted differently than everyone else. Despite him being on a sports team, he didn't seem to behave like the other athletes. Arthur seemed to keep to himself. Sure, he was almost always accompanied by another teammate, but they operated in two different ways. From what he had seen, the others were loud and opinionated and thrived on gossip. Arthur seemed a bit quieter, listened more than he spoke, and the topic of another's personal business seemed uninteresting to him. He avoided flirting with girls he was not interested in. He bought gifts for his friends. He would help someone pick up their belongings if they dropped them in the hallway.

Arthur Kirkland was not a typical athlete. To Alfred, he seemed to actually have a heart in there somewhere, unlike the other guys that teased him about his weight or looks or tried to beat him up after class. Arthur actually seemed…really nice.

Maybe it was because Arthur was a bit different from the rest of the group that everyone was so crazy about him. Was that what made him so likeable with the guys? Was that what made the girls flirt with him? Was that what made him so popular?

Regardless of the reason, a part of Alfred wished he could experience that too. He wondered what it was like to have a huge group of friends that always wanted to hang out. He wondered what it was like to have girls always fawning all over him, to find love notes in his locker, and to get asked on dates nearly every week. He wanted to know what it felt like to actually belong…to actually feel needed and loved.

Maybe then he could be happy too.

"Alfred." Suddenly there was an elbow slamming into his ribcage. The boy spluttered slightly, looking over at the source. Ivan's eyes were glued onto him. "You not listen."

"Sorry," the blonde mumbled, looking down at his tray. He began picking at a sausage link with his plastic fork, not really eating though.

Ivan pursed his lips into a thin line. He had easily learned the ins and outs of Alfred's habits not long after they had met. Having a large appetite was something Alfred was notorious for. And so when he wasn't eating like usual, well, Ivan knew something was up.

"Something bothering you," the taller commented. He had been watching Alfred's face. His eyes had been glued to a table across the cafeteria. Ivan may have struggled in school sometimes, but he was by no means stupid. The entire student body knew who sat at that table.

And the table's main source of life, Arthur Kirkland, seemed to be the prime focus of Alfred's blue eyes.

Alfred began to absently stab at his breakfast but still did not eat. He shrugged at first, not looking at Ivan. His eyes were glassy behind his huge glasses and Ivan feared for a moment that the boy was going to start crying.

"I wish I knew what made everyone else so special," Alfred said at last. He shoved his tray away, his appetite fading completely. He put his head down on the slightly dirty cafeteria table and used his arms to shield his face. "How come everyone else has a lot of friends and has a place to go except me? It's not fair…"

Ivan was about to argue, but silenced himself after a moment of thinking. In a way, he guessed Alfred was right. Sure, Ivan may not have had any friends, but he had a healthy, nice place to go home to at night. He lived with both his parents and his two sisters.

And yet… The one time he had been to Alfred's house, it was exactly the opposite. Alfred's house was always dead silent. Ivan saw no forms of life while he was over that day. If he remembered correctly, Alfred had said his father was on an extended business trip again. He avoided the topic of his mother. Ivan did not know if the boy had any siblings, but judging from the empty house, he supposed not. He had not seen any pets either.

It seemed like a lonely lifestyle. The only person Alfred got to talk to during school was Ivan, and surely that was not enough. To be bullied at school and then go home to an abandoned house… It made Ivan's insides hurt. He could not imagine being so alone.

Ivan knew Alfred was crying. He did not lift his head for ages, and his shoulders trembled a little. Ivan reached out and tried to give the other a pat on the shoulder, but Alfred jerked harshly away from him. Ivan took that as a sign to stop, so he did, simply going back to his breakfast.

When the bell rang, Alfred still refused to move at first. He simply kept his head down on the table, his face hidden in his arms. A few quarterbacks walked past their end of the table and flicked him on the back of the head – followed by Ivan's glare – and then Alfred bolted upright. His eyes were pink and his cheeks had a tint of color to them. A few salty lines decorated his round cheeks. His lip was still trembling. Ivan sighed gingerly through his nose. Poor kid.

Alfred proceeded to stand up, securing his hold on his backpack. Ivan slowly rose as well, blinking at the pat Alfred offered his arm. The smaller stood on his tiptoes, and Ivan bent over to hear him better. Alfred's voice was quiet and shaky.

"I'll see you at lunch. Try to save me a seat, okay?"

Before Ivan received the chance to say anything, Alfred hurried off. He was clutching the strap of his bag for dear life, and before he made it out of the cafeteria, he had already been bumped roughly. He simply stumbled a bit and shoved his way out of the cafeteria, vanishing from sight.

Ivan remained in place for a few moments. He glanced to Alfred's tray, which was now forgotten. Frowning, Ivan picked it up, along with his own tray. After stealing a piece of sausage from Alfred's plate, he simply threw the rest away, before flinging his bag over his shoulder.

He was having problems getting Alfred's red-rimmed eyes out of his head.

* * *

The first two classes of the day went by agonizingly slow. Alfred's schedule consisted of having calculus first, and then an elective. In his case, it was computer science. Both were things he loved, so he didn't mind the class itself. It was his peers he could not stand. He liked sitting in the very front desk but he hated how he could feel the entire class staring at him and mocking him behind his back. Crumpled paper balls hit the back of his head when the teacher had her back turned.

Lunch did anything but calm him down. He had managed to find Ivan, and the pair was seated at a secluded table near the corner of the cafeteria. By this point Alfred's emotions had hit a low and he was starting to gorge himself. It was a comfort mechanism he had developed since he was little, and maybe that was why he was getting heavy…

Ivan had English and history in the morning. They talked a little about their classes; it was mainly Ivan trying to launch the discussion, excitement bubbling out of him when he explained they were going to do a lesson on Russian history in his class. Alfred simply nodded along, not really in the mood to talk.

He instead spent majority of the lunch period watching the remaining people in the cafeteria. He could read lips; he witnessed girls gossiping, boys talking about sports, both discussing weekend plans and videos found on the Internet.

And last but not least, Alfred allowed himself to focus on Arthur's table. The table the group had was circular, and seated eight. Arthur seemed to be the leader. He had a wavy-haired blonde on his left; Francis was his name, Alfred believed. Francis had two of his friends with him; a dark-skinned brunette and a snowy-haired boy. Antonio and Gilbert; the three had been friends for as long as Alfred could remember. Alfred had a bit of difficulty naming the remaining four at the table.

Arthur and Francis liked to bicker. He wasn't sure why and Alfred couldn't say the reason particularly interested him. But it was as if they did little things to purposefully set each other off. They would insult each other, but by the end of lunch, they were friends again.

They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. They would all make jokes and clap and laugh. They would play a widespread table game of rock paper scissors; the loser threw away the trash for the entire table. They would have group discussions about their lives, about stories they heard, about things they found interesting. They began to make plans to go to various games or events together.

It wasn't fair.

After eating, Alfred proceeded to shove his face into one of his textbooks. It was an attempt of distraction; he was trying his best to ignore his surroundings, but that wouldn't stop his brain from thinking about it. And when it came down to it, the more Alfred puzzled over the situation, the sicker it made him.

He had tried to think positively at first regarding the rest of the day. After all, he only had two classes left to go. English wouldn't be that bad. And then the reminder that gym was his last class of the day crept back into his head, and newfound anxiety lit in his gut.

Oh, if only he could be someone else…

Lunch was, overall, uneventful. The two were in the corner, so what little attention they received from bullies was gone. They became part of the brick, blending in perfectly. They were isolated from the rest of the world.

It gave Alfred mixed feelings. On one hand, he itched to be noticed. He wanted people to have conversations with him. He wanted people to actually call him by his name, instead of an insult. He wanted people to have fun and joke with him, not to be made fun of and be the butt of every joke.

Yet…when people did notice him, he hated it. It was not what he wanted. The attention was negative. It led to insults and his books being knocked out of his hands.

He could want, but he could not have.

English offered no changes. He remained perched in a desk at the front of the room. He could not shake the sense of dread away from himself. He wound up with a stomachache due to a terrible case of nerves. He felt completely and utterly sick. He was terrified and he knew it.

A part of him was curious if he could skip the class and manage to get away with it. But in the end, Alfred decided to challenge his fear.

The boys' locker room was only the beginning of a nightmare. Alfred tried his best to creep in unnoticed by closely following a group filing in. He could easily hide behind them since he was so short. But when they dispersed to go get changed, he no longer had any form of protection. He tightly clung to his backpack as he walked hurriedly through the locker room, trying to find a secluded spot near the corner to get dressed.

He peeked over at the others. Everyone was taller than him. Everyone was skinnier than him. Everyone was happier than him. He swallowed and squatted a bit above the floor, digging around in his backpack for his change of clothes.

He tried to change as fast as he could, attempting to keep as much of himself hidden in the corner as possible. He let the suspenders clang as he unbuckled them, allowing them to dangle at his hips. He then hurriedly started on his pants, tugging them off in one clean sweep. He felt self-conscious in the shorts he had brought despite them nearly reaching his knees. The real challenge now was his shirt. He clumsily worked at the buttons, hunching over a little. Finally he managed to unbutton enough of them so that the fabric slid down his rounded shoulders. At last he tugged the shirt off completely, going for the t-shirt he had stuffed in his bag.

"Damn." Someone whistled at him suddenly. Alfred could hear a few boys snickering, easily knowing someone was making fun of him. His cheeks started to burn. Maybe if he ignored them they would stop. "What's the matter? Looks like you've been spending more time stuffing your face than studying."

Or, perhaps that was wishful thinking.

Alfred's cheeks darkened a good three shades of red. He hurriedly tugged the shirt over his head, still feeling too revealed. Everyone was staring at him. Alfred then made a beeline for the door, only to have one of the others block his path.

"Please move," he mumbled, trying to squeeze by the other male. The other was much taller and sturdier than him. Alfred tried to push by him; the boy simply shoved him to move him back. He was rough; Alfred wound up tripping, crashing down onto the dirty floor on his back. The room became alive with laughter and he could feel his eyes watering. Three of the boys hovered over him now, grinning ear to ear in amusement.

"Aww, look at him. Good old Jones, pussy like usual." One of the boys nudged Alfred with the toe of his shoe. Alfred whimpered a bit, trying to get up, only to have a boot kick him in the gut. It easily knocked the air out of him and knocked him back down. The source of the attack began to laugh, and soon enough, the others did too. Getting to his feet was humiliating; every time he managed to rise onto his hands and knees, someone shoved him back down. His cheeks were burning. His eyes were beginning to leak, despite his efforts to not cry in front of the others. He stopped himself from blinking, because he knew if he did, the tears glistening in his eyes would fall out, and he wouldn't be able to stop them.

Finally, the others seemed to back down. One by one they all began filing out of the locker room, and at last, Alfred was alone. He could hear their footsteps hitting the waxed floor of the gymnasium. The sound of boys and girls loudly chatting faintly reached his ears through the wooden door.

A small hiccup came out of his throat as he dragged himself onto his hands and knees. Alfred didn't bother to hurry. He took his time rising to his feet. He walked slowly towards the door, but paused as he looked in one of the mirrors.

He didn't see anything he liked. Why was it such a wonder to him that no one liked him?

Alfred slowly crept out of the locker room and into the gym. The last of the girls were filing out of the locker room now as well. Everyone else was seated on the floor in the starting position. As soon as Alfred exited the room, all eyes rose, staring him down as he trudged slowly across the gym and sat down near the back corner. Gym was the exception. He could not sit up front in gym. He wanted to avoid all eyes. He didn't want people to look at him. He didn't want anyone at all to notice him. He wished he was invisible.

When he sat down on the floor, he uncomfortably pulled his legs close. In the small chunk of time before the opening drills, Alfred began to study his class, trying to figure out what he was getting into this time. The boys were huge and he recognized majority of them. They were in his grade. However, a few were unusual faces, maybe seniors. He recognized a few of the girls as well. He scanned the rows of people up and down, trying to pinpoint who he knew, or more accurately, who he had squabbles with so far in his lifetime.

He had inspected halfway down the third row when a messy mop of blonde hair caught his eye. Alfred then swallowed. Oh, _God. _Arthur was in his class? He let his eyes roam over the other for a split second. His green eyes were bright, amused, almost excited. His t-shirt looked almost too tight, gray in color and displaying a band Alfred had never heard of. Was his eyesight really that bad or…was that an earring in his left ear?

Great. Just great. Alfred whined a bit, rubbing his palms roughly over his face, bumping his glasses in the process. Just what he needed was _the _Arthur Kirkland in his class. He didn't need another flashy reminder of how much better the boy was than him; he didn't want to remember how much of a loser he really was.

But… Maybe with Arthur being in his class, the attention would be taken off of him for a little while. At least he'd get stared at less when he ran; maybe the grating words from the peanut gallery would be a reduced. Who knew, maybe he'd finally disappear completely.

Well, what remainder of him that actually _was _noticed anyway.

The warm-ups were starting. Alfred had never really been flexible; reaching his toes with his fingertips without bending his knees was a challenge, even more now due to the weight accumulating in his abdomen. He stole a glance around him; everyone else could do it but him.

It always 'but him', 'except him', 'only him'. Maybe it was just meant to be that way.

They rolled over, holding themselves up on their toes and the palms of their hands in a plank. Alfred's arms were shaking. His back started sagging first. He tried to straighten up, and he vaguely felt his elbows buckle.

All heads turned toward him when he hit the floor with a thud. His cheeks burned bright pink and he scrambled, trying to pick himself back up into the proper position. Color spread down the nape of his neck and into the tips of his ears. He heard snickering, and lots of it. Tears glittered in his eyes and Alfred simply bowed his head, his body shaking as he tried to keep himself off the ground.

Ah… He hated school.

* * *

Chapter 1: End.

A/N: Ahh, I'm sorry this first chapter seems a bit slow-moving! Regardless, I hoped you guys enjoyed! See you next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Oh gosh, you all made me so happy! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying my dorky little AU. My apologies this update took a tad longer than expected, the real world kind of caught up with me. Ahh, but anyway, thank you so much to my lovely batch of reviewers! I'm really happy to hear you guys are enjoying the fic, and I hope I continue to hear from you soon!

Warnings: Bullying, a slight trigger for self-hate, and swearing.

* * *

Gym was Alfred's equivalent of hell. The first day meant physical testing. That in itself had led to humiliation. He couldn't do chin-ups, couldn't run the mile in the allotted time, and couldn't do a long jump without first falling down on his rear.

And, to his dismay, they were stuck playing a soccer game afterwards. Splitting the class by gender did not surprise him, but Alfred wished the girls had been mixed into their side of the field. At least the girls just ignored him, instead of insulting and pushing him…

Alfred had simply remained in the back of the sea of kids. He could still hear, but he refused to watch. One by one the other boys around him were chosen to join a team. He was picked dead last, just like always, though being on the same team as Arthur was definitely new.

But, in the end, it was routine. Arthur instantly leapt onto one of the forward positions, and Alfred simply placed himself in the field where the coach instructed him to be. Unfortunately, that required interaction with the rest of the group.

It had been a disaster.

He had a weak kick and could not pass fast enough. The other team stole the ball from him before he could react, and his own teammates were quick to trip him. He even went tumbling over the ball itself.

His knees and palms had turned green.

He knew the people on his team hated him. And it was rather obvious they hated him even more when they lost.

"I can't fucking believe this! Way to go Jones, maybe if you weren't so damn stupid and could actually pass a _ball—"_

The arguing went on for several minutes. Alfred took this distraction to his advantage to begin changing due to the attention being steered away from him. However, Alfred was not a fan of yelling. He was not fond of bickering and arguments, especially of this nature. He had put up with that for three years, and he didn't want to hear it anymore. Maybe that was what caused him to blurt out without thinking.

"Will you just shut up?! It was just a _game!"_

Instantly his heart fell and he lowered his gaze, the hot glares burning him to the core.

_It was nice knowing you, cruel world. _Alfred squeaked as a hand suddenly snatched him up by the front of shirt. His own tiny hands curled over the pair holding onto him. It was in that split second Alfred realized just how small he really was. The hands holding him had fingers three times as thick as his own, with palms huge and perfectly rectangular. His fingertips barely began to cover the knuckles. Alfred's blue eyes dared to rise, locking onto the teen's face. But he couldn't look for more than a moment, because the boy began to shake him violently as he held him by the front of the shirt.

"No, _you _shut up! Who are you to say anything at all?! You're too damn _stupid _to do anything right!" The boy shook him harder. Alfred let out a grunt as his feet suddenly lost contact with the floor. He failed in holding back the loud cry of pain as his head smacked against the wall as the teen slammed him up against it, simply letting his feet dangle above the floor. Alfred had squeezed his eyes shut now, not daring to look, and was trying not to listen. "It's no wonder no one likes you! You're nothing but a piece of shit, Jones!"

He tried to ignore the pain that tore through him. It started in his heart, the words cutting through it like a steak knife. Then it spread like wildfire, erupting into his face. A scream tore through Alfred's throat. The pair had now attracted attention of several other boys, who peered over and approached in a disgusting case of curiosity.

The teen let him go. Alfred instantly fell to the floor, roughly landing on his rear, and pressed his back against the wall. He desperately cupped his hands over his face. Blood poured from his nose like a faucet, bright red, warm, and sticky.

It hurt when he tried to squeeze his nose to stop the blood from pouring out. He couldn't get the blood to stop spurting out of him. The others didn't seem too concerned. In fact, they appeared entertained by his agony, laughing at him.

"Look at him! He's gushin' like Niagara Falls!"

The tears began, and he couldn't stop them. He was in pain, both inside and out, and he just couldn't take it.

"Damn it Jones, stop bawling like a little bitch!" "But that's obviously all he's good at…well, besides eating of course."

He couldn't stop crying. Alfred finally broke down, feeling a river of tears course down his rounded cheeks. He continued to cover his nose with one soaked palm. The other blindly searched the locker room floor in the process for his backpack, smearing red liquid across the tile.

When his hand settled upon the strap at last, Alfred hesitated no longer. In a moment of panic, he yanked up his bag, keeping a hand over his face, and ran. He shoved past the boys that towered over him, barely escaping a hand that tried to grab him by the shirt, and simply ran.

Alfred shoved the door of the locker room open, and charged into the gymnasium. He didn't bother to take any looks around. He just needed a way out.

He bolted across the waxed floor. He felt something collide with him, but he simply kept his head down and kept going. As soon as his hand, slick with his own blood, met the handle of the back door to the gym, he simply pulled, and ran outside. The sun felt too hot on his skin and he felt so tired and empty, but he didn't dare stop.

He did not notice that Arthur was now standing motionless in the middle of the gym, having nearly been knocked to the floor in collision with the sprinting boy. Arthur had barely managed to keep from tumbling to the floor, and now watching the back door to the gym slowly inch shut, until it closed with a soft click.

* * *

"Alfred, what happen to face?"

It was the next morning at breakfast that Ivan offered that inquiry. Alfred instantly paused. The plastic fork remained clutched in his hand. His tongue flicked out for a moment, licking the maple syrup off his lower lip.

"W… What do you mean?"

"Alfred, I am not stupid." Ivan's face instantly contorted in a sharp scowl. "Did someone hurt you? Something happen?"

Alfred remained mute. The blow he had received thankfully had not broken his nose, but his skin was terribly bruised. That morning it had been an ugly shade of purple, along with his cheeks close to the cartilage. But… He could have sworn he covered it up well enough…

Regardless, it was obvious something had happened. He received a beating the first day of school. He had gone through half a box of tissues trying to stop the blood from squirting out of him. He had cried until no more tears could fall, ate until he was nearly sick, and tried to forget the fact there was a gun in his father's closet.

"No." Alfred shrugged and went back to his breakfast. "Nothing happened."

"I not believe you." Ivan suddenly argued, his eyes narrowing a little. "Why not want to tell me what happened?"

"Look, I… I appreciate the concern and all, but it's really no big deal, Ivan." Alfred's voice wavered slightly. Ivan simply felt bad for him. They weren't really friends. Ivan only pitied him and had no one else to talk to. It was what Alfred believed at this point. After all, you could not fully trust anyone. "Okay?"

He couldn't afford to let anyone into his heart or mind. Ivan was no exception. In the end, he'd only hurt himself. He did not wish to raise his hopes and only end up betrayed in the end. It happened every time after all.

Ivan's brow grew taut. He looked like he desired to argue, but much to Alfred's relief, he did not.

And in a twisted way, that was how Alfred liked it. He liked it better when Ivan simply believed he was okay and asked no questions. Despite his brain and heart screaming in agony for help, he did not vocalize a thing. There was no point in weighing down another with his problems. And in a way, when Ivan simply bought into his schemes, he felt the tiniest bit better. Even if he was dying inside, he could at least pull off a façade that was convincing enough.

At least that was one talent he had.

Ivan hesitated for a moment, seeming to be thinking of what to say. He absently shifted in his seat, and it was in that split second Alfred realized just how different Ivan's body was than his. Ivan was so tall and sturdy looking. He was not entirely muscle, but he sure did have a lot less pudge than Alfred did. Alfred was nearly a whole foot shorter than Ivan was. He was a lot softer too, and if he was being honest, he hated the way his stomach stuck out and how big his thighs were. Everyone he saw looked so handsome or pretty in Alfred's eyes, and he really just wanted to look like them. That was all he wanted.

"I here if you need talk," Ivan said at last, the corners of his mouth perking with effort. It was a forced smile that did not show any teeth, and Alfred could tell the other was uncomfortable. Ivan didn't like to smile a whole lot. He mentioned once it had to deal with the way he was raised, but Alfred could not remember what he had said for the life of him. "Remember that."

"I know, big guy." Alfred exhaled very slowly. He felt like crying. He felt heavy, like some unseen force was crushing him. It was as if the weight of the world was clamping down on his shoulders, heavy hands squeezing his body. He didn't really feel sad, just more than a bit empty. "I know…"

Ivan's face tightened up in a frown when Alfred slowly rose to his feet. Alfred's palms were trembling on the tabletop. Ivan watched the boy's face with curiosity. He had learned to pick up on the smallest signals that Alfred produced by now. He took note of the glazed over eyes, the knitted eyebrows, and the tight purse of lips as a tooth nibbled at the inside of the lower one.

Alfred was upset, and Ivan knew it. Alfred was usually upset. He tried to play it differently, but Ivan was not stupid. He knew what was going on. It had been this way since they had first met, after all. He knew Alfred was picked on, even though the other teen did all he could to avoid talking about it. Ivan had seen Alfred study himself before, and he had easily seen the look of disgust in those big blue eyes. Alfred was usually reserved and didn't smile very much and just seemed to be slowly retracting into himself more and more. Alfred was rotting into a corpse of sadness and hatred.

But what could he say? Who was he to say anything? Alfred never wanted to talk about any of it. Alfred shrugged off all his attempts of concern, of discussion, and said it was no big deal. Alfred was about avoidance, and that was what he chose to do. He simply tried to avoid all the issues in his life by not confronting them.

But when did one draw the line, especially when things began to grow worse?

"I'm…" Alfred swallowed. His hands were trembling violently. "I'm going to the bathroom."

He did not give Ivan a chance to say a word. He simply spun on his heel and fled, leaving his bag cast on the dirty floor next to his seat. Ivan simply remained perched in his seat and watched Alfred leave. He simply studied the boy as he bolted. His eyes took in that wonderful mess of blonde hair, the shape of Alfred's figure, and the clothing that could make him look so utterly dorky.

If only the boy knew how stunning he really was.

Alfred had vanished behind a corner now, gone from Ivan's sight. The Russian student knew perfectly well Alfred hadn't gone to the bathroom for the typical reason.

And his prediction was right.

Alfred had gone sprinting into the bathroom as fast as his legs could take him. He first ducked down a bit to ensure that the stalls were all empty. The urinals were unoccupied as well. It was then Alfred turned his attention to the mirror hanging on the wall in the bathroom.

His biggest enemy was his reflection.

The anger and the hate began to bubble up in his chest all over again. Alfred glared hard at himself. He dug his nails into his forehead and scratched at the many marks of acne that decorated him. He stared hard at the giant glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He pinched his arms harshly, and his legs, and let out a snort under his breath. He squeezed at his stomach and the tears startled him as they began to plop down his cheeks.

"Stop crying," he snarled at himself, his gaze again locking onto the glass. His reflection seemed to mock him as he stood before it. Alfred took in every flaw he assumed he had and studied it as hard as he could. The angry whirlwind in his head was growing worse and it simply reached a point where Alfred could no longer handle it. "I said stop _crying!"_

He couldn't stop. The dam was open, and Alfred could not stop the flood. The tears tumbled violently down his cheeks and he erupted into a crescendo of sobs. The sound echoed in the empty bathroom, and it was at that moment that Alfred felt the loneliest he ever had.

He simply shoved himself into a stall, locked the door, and cried.

* * *

"You sure are quiet, eyebrows. What's on your mind?"

It was then Arthur came crashing back to earth. He had been absently stabbing at the pancakes stacked upon his tray, staring blankly down at the table in deep thought. Francis sat to his left, staring at him with amused blue eyes as he absently brushed his hair out of his face. He had an entertained smirk on his lips, and _God, _Arthur just wanted to sock him.

Luckily for the boy, Arthur had at least _some _self-control.

"I told you not to call me that." Arthur's voice came out in a rough, low hiss. "Regardless, it's none of your business."

"Oh, someone is getting rather defensive! What's wrong, does _someone _finally have a little romantic interest keeping all their attention?" Francis's face lit up in a large grin. His eyes were sparkling. His voice sounded rather curious, but at the same time, almost…too hopeful. "That surely must be it. Oh, our little late bloomer is finally growing up! Who is it?"

"I never said anything about a crush! Jumping to conclusions like usual, I can see." Arthur let out a huff as he stuffed a large chunk of pancake into his mouth. "Regardless, Francis, I've already told you I'm not interested."

It was stupid in Arthur's eyes. He knew Francis was trying to win him over…well, judging from what Antonio had told him once. And in a way it made sense, the way Francis invited him to his dance recitals and such. Ah, but he had to admit, he didn't return the feelings at all. It grew rather awkward at times. If he held out a while longer though and held his ground maybe Francis would lose interest and find another girlfriend… The boy had no problems finding a date. Girls seemed plenty attracted to him, mumbling about charm and good looks and things like that. Urgh, it made Arthur sick.

Maybe in a way he was jealous. He had been in perhaps three relationships his entire life, and had figured out after a while the girls only sought interest in him due to his popularity and his wealth. He hadn't hesitated in breaking up with them after that.

But, no, it was not a crush at all that was keeping his attention. If anything, it was worry that was plaguing Arthur's insides. He had not slept his best last night due to a strange nightmare. He could not remember every detail, but he remembered a boy. It was that kid who crashed into him during his blind sprint out of the gymnasium. He could remember darkness and an ocean of red. Arthur could recall a voice that screeched in the darkness and sent pricks of goose bumps down his arms and a shiver down his spine. The voice was only partially coherent, but it seemed to be crying in some odd pitch for help.

Arthur shot awake violently in a cold sweat. Each time he fell back asleep he was haunted by the same nightmare. But he did not understand. Why had he dreamed about that boy?

He vaguely felt like they had met before, perhaps. Or maybe it was just his imagination. After all, Arthur didn't even know the kid's name. He didn't know anything about him. All he knew was that the kid hung out with that rather…creepy Russian transfer student. Giant, like some of the other students called him.

At least, that was what Arthur had heard. He had to admit, he hadn't really noticed the pair around school very much. Maybe he was just oblivious. But if he didn't know much to anything at all about those two…why was he suddenly having nightmares about the little guy? Maybe his conscience was trying to tell him something.

…Now _that _sounded like a load of hippie shit. Arthur let out a snort through his nose and began picking at his food again. Man, he was so tired…and, if he dared to admit it, rather cranky. Hopefully that nightmare wouldn't come back again tonight.

He didn't really want to suffer through it again. Hopefully he'd be able to figure it out and it would go away. Maybe if he changed something in his life… Maybe he should try to find that boy… Obviously they were in gym together; perhaps he'd have a word with him during that time…

"You know homecoming is in a little over two weeks!" Antonio suddenly spoke up, and Arthur managed to zone back into the real world in time to hear this. Arthur unconsciously crinkled his nose as he pushed his food around. He was a soccer guy, not a football guy. Going to the game was definitely not on his mind. The dance was still a maybe though; he'd probably go if the others in his group went. "I think Gilbert said he's having an after party at his place."

The current group of three – Arthur, Francis, and Antonio – all glanced in the direction of the snowy haired boy, who was completely passed out on the table, snoring. Arthur couldn't help but let out a soft snort. It wasn't really surprising to anyone anymore. Gilbert never was a morning person.

Well, a party didn't sound too bad. Arthur couldn't say he was entirely fond of the people that sometimes showed up; too loud boys, clingy girls, trashy people… That was at every party and it was a bit irritating. But still, in a way, those kinds of people were everywhere no matter where you went. He'd just have to deal with it.

Besides, the music was usually pretty good. Getting a night out of the house was even better; he couldn't say constantly being around three brothers and two parents was the nicest thing. Sure, he didn't have a terrible family or anything, but listening to his brothers argue could take its toll. A rather large part of him couldn't wait for all of them to leave.

"I think getting the beer is still in the works…" Antonio hummed a bit and tapped his foot under the table. "I don't really know what Gilbert is up to but I'm sure he'll take care of it."

Even better.

Now that he thought about it, Arthur supposed they were a rather similar group of people. Antonio lived in an average home about ten minutes from their school. He lived with his parents and occasionally some members of his extended family.

Gilbert lived in a ranch-style house with his younger brother Ludwig. Arthur didn't know who else lived with them. All he knew was that they had three dogs that were a bit too large for his liking.

Francis lived in an upscale home with his mother. They were the type of family that had so much in their garden it was hard to keep track of it all. They had a little Pomeranian that yapped too much and koi out in their yard.

And then there was himself. Arthur lived in a gated neighborhood in a big brick house. His father was a lawyer and his mother operated a fashion business from home. All three of his brothers were older than him. The oldest was in graduate school. The other two were working on their bachelor's degrees, but Arthur couldn't be bothered to remember their majors. They had a single cat, male and gray and sleek. Arthur owned a big black Ford pickup truck with tires big enough to kill someone.

Life was good for them. They had plenty of material possessions, nice houses, and good families. They all had decent grades, different talents, good social standing… Things were pretty swell indeed.

"Who all is coming anyway?" Arthur inquired, shoving his food around his plate. "Besides the obvious."

"Besides us? I can't say I know for sure yet; you know how Gilbert gets with the guests. But he mentioned something about dates, so I guess if you want to bring someone along with you, you can. I doubt he'd notice anyway, even if he didn't want you to bring anyone…"

Francis seemed to perk up a bit at that, a smile breaking his face. Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye and let out a grunt, not quite sure if the boy was intending on trying to find someone else to drag with him, since Arthur refused to give him the time of day.

Sometimes he felt a little bad over it. Francis seemed interested, almost too friendly, always flirting and the like. It was like he was almost desperate for Arthur's attention. Nevertheless the soccer player always rejected. If he wasn't interested, he wasn't interested. That's all there was to it. But in a twisted way, a tiny bit of Arthur almost wanted to cave in. Being single was…well, it got lonely. It got really lonely, especially when all his friends _and _all his brothers were dating.

And yet, it was so utterly complicated. Dating, if he was being honest with himself, confused Arthur. A part of him felt trapped in a world he didn't understand. It had always been that way. He liked the soft glow of girls, their curves, their voices… Sure, he liked girls plenty. He always had to the best of his knowledge. But there was another tiny part of him he didn't really understand. And that part of him was curious about boys.

Boys puzzled Arthur. Sure, he was a boy himself, he knew that. He felt fine being himself, he _liked _being himself, but… Well, the problem was with other boys. It was pretty often he found his eyes lingering, studying bodies and faces and mannerisms, just like how he did with girls. Arthur had a vivid imagination. It had happened a few times, the way he had closed his eyes and pictured himself biting down on another man's lip, wrestling with tongues and letting his fingernails create deep red marks.

He couldn't say he thought of a certain person when he imagined such scenarios, but the sheer fact he mentally created them in the first place… It didn't help that he usually let his daydreams get so advanced he usually had a reaction to them. He wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly thinking of such things. It was one big confusing mess and Arthur had no desire to speak to a single soul about it.

He could handle it on his own, surely.

Perhaps what made Arthur the most confused was the terminology. He didn't know what to label himself as anymore. For the longest time he could have sworn he was straight, but now, here he was, imagining up scenarios that usually left him moaning in his room.

To the best of his knowledge, he had not experienced these types of thoughts before. The more he thought about it, the crazier it made him. He could not really recall his thoughts from way back when. He could vaguely remember staring at boys sometimes, until his brothers proceeded to pick on him for it, so he stopped. Besides, there was a difference between looking at boys and imagining himself making out with one. Or worse…depending on his imagination levels that day. He simply didn't understand, and yet he felt no urge to tell a soul.

It would be his own little secret. It had to be kept as his own little secret. There was no way he could approach it any other way. What would his family say? What would his friends say? His teammates? His teachers?

It made Arthur's stomach clench with anxiety just thinking about it.

Francis and Antonio were gossiping about something now, but since Arthur had been in his own little world, he wasn't quite sure of what the topic was. Gilbert finally seemed to be coming back to reality now, though he seemed to be more than half-asleep. Arthur simply kept quiet now and listened to the group, working absently on prying open the carton of apple juice on his tray.

Arthur had to admit it. He liked being popular. He liked how many people itched to talk to him or hang out with him. But the real challenge was finding true friends. He liked being with these people surrounding him – Francis, Antonio, Gilbert – majority of the time, but… Well, while they presented rather nice company, Arthur didn't always feel like he belonged in the group. He felt so different from each of them. They were dramatic and rowdy and Arthur couldn't say he was too fond of it.

A part of him wondered if he had simply invited these teens into his life just so he would have the company. They weren't his favorite, but it beat being alone.

…Right?

He had downed his juice in practically one go at this point, now simply sitting at the table and listening to the conversations around him. Antonio and Francis seemed to forget he existed for a moment, so totally engrossed in their conversation that Arthur had risen from the table without the pair noticing at all. He couldn't say he was surprised.

Arthur took his time. He walked slowly, studying the various students that sat at each table as he moved past. He spotted the cliques. Several girls sitting at a table noticed him and all smiled and waved almost instantly, and Arthur forced his lips into a perky grin, and waved back.

For whatever reason, when he saw them regroup and begin whispering and laughing and blushing, he felt a sickness settle in the pits of his stomach.

Arthur entered the boys' bathroom after a few moments. The first thing that hit his ears was the sound of running water. This did not catch his attention at first, until he noticed someone hunched over one of the sinks. Arthur paused for a split second in his tracks, and watched.

He wasn't sure what urged him to stop. He wasn't sure why he did it. All he knew was that his legs simply stilled and he watched the form at the sink.

Arthur recognized Alfred. It was not through name or conversation, but looks. It was the boy of his nightmare, the boy in his gym class, and it was the boy running cold tap water over his eyes by using his cupped palms.

The feeling of being watched settled over Alfred after only a moment. His eyes shot open and he lurched upwards from the depths of the sink. His glasses slipped from their spot perched atop of his head and fell upon the ridge of his nose. The water dribbled down his face in tiny rivers, and for a split moment, the pair just stared at each other.

Arthur noticed the boy's face more than anything. The kid's eyes were bright red and bloodshot, as if he had been crying. The water dripping from the upper portion of his face seemed to be creating a reaction near the center of his face, near his nose. Arthur watched, momentarily confused, as something else, flesh colored, began to run down Alfred's face. Foundation.

Something purple near the boy's nose caught Arthur's eye, but before he could look properly, the kid before him jerked. He snatched up some paper towels and ran them quickly over his face. His cheeks flushed darkly, and without a word, he darted past Arthur, heading for the door.

Even when the boy rushed past him in a desperate escape maneuver, Arthur could not bring himself to move. He simply remained in place for a long moment, stuck in a constant instant-replay of what he had just seen.

And what had caught Arthur's attention the most was not the water washing off a mask that revealed something else. It was not the water flushing away tears. It was the eyes, the color of a beautiful sea, that were screaming for help.

* * *

Chapter 2: End.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Oh gosh so many of you left such lovely reviews for me! It really did inspire me to get the next chapter written for you guys. Getting reviews like that makes me really happy and always makes me want to write more. But yes, thank you so much! It makes me really glad to know you guys are enjoying the story so far. I hope I continue to satisfy you!

Warnings: Bullying, triggers for self-hate and suicidal thoughts, and swearing.

* * *

Ever since that moment in the bathroom, a brief sixty three seconds in Arthur's life, he began to see Alfred everywhere. After that incident, Arthur had returned to his table, and it took his eyes no time at all to spot Alfred in the crowd of students. He found himself watching from a distance, studying Alfred's mannerisms. The boy didn't seem very talkative. The large Russian sitting before him was the only company he had at the table. Alfred didn't seem too eager to chat with him though. He simply kept his head down and nodded along to whatever the boy said. Arthur did not see a single smile pass those lips.

Arthur remained in his own world for the remainder of breakfast, simply occupying himself by watching the two outcasts.

Unknown to him, the trio at his own table had noticed this by now. They had grown quiet, moving their gazes from Arthur, and began to give each other silent glances that actually spoke a thousand words. They all seemed to know that something was different about their leader.

And Arthur continued to notice the boy. He began to see Alfred throughout the day, as if some strange coincidences kept bringing them together. He found himself trailing behind the boy at a distance in between classes. He found himself climbing the back stairwell and entering a hallway, just to find Alfred digging through his locker. He found himself occasionally glancing into classrooms as he walked by, to find Alfred perched at a desk with his head shoved in a thick textbook.

Yet, it seemed to Arthur that no matter how many times he saw Alfred in these instances, the boy never seemed to notice him. Alfred seemed absorbed in his own bubble, and therefore, did not pick up on Arthur's presence at all.

Arthur began to learn a lot by simply watching. From breakfast until lunch, Arthur simply sat in the background and observed Alfred. He found that his prediction of Alfred living in his own little world was correct. The boy spoke to no one, and seemed to simply throw himself into the world of books.

No one talked _to _Alfred; they simply talked _down _to him. Arthur heard many things that day by mistake. He heard a quarterback call the boy fat and knock his books out of his hands, right as Arthur was coming around the corner. He saw Alfred pry his locker open, only to have it slammed shut by two boys, right in his face, his fingers nearly crushed in the process. The halls were alive with things Arthur never noticed before. He noticed now that if he was trailing Alfred, he could hear things coming out of the mouths of students traveling in the opposite direction, who had just walked past the short teen. Girls and boys alike would snicker and gossip. Arthur heard far too many insults. He began to understand rather easily that the others liked to find the most sensitive spot and attack it. And that seemed to be Alfred's weight. Oh, but Arthur heard plenty of other harsh words, but the boy's weight seemed to be the biggest target.

Perhaps that was why, Arthur wondered to himself as he sat at his lunch table. Perhaps that was why Alfred kept to himself so often. It seemed rather obvious to Arthur that the remaining student body liked to pick on the boy and treat him badly. Alfred didn't seem to have any friends at all, besides that Russian boy. And Arthur could only assume what the boy was going through. To constantly be the butt of every joke and insult and bullying tactic, Arthur was certain the boy probably lived life in fear. He was probably afraid of what was going to happen next, when he'd be targeted next, what people were going to say next.

And the entire situation created a strong queasy feeling that settled harshly in Arthur's guts. It wasn't right. None of it was. Alfred was harmless and yet the world seemed to knock him down anyway.

Arthur could not get the boy out of his head. He was haunted by that nightmare, by what he had seen, and by those stunning eyes that seemed to scream in agony. And as the day dragged on, Arthur allowed himself to think. He thought about all that he had witnessed. He began to wonder about Alfred. Was it hard for him to keep going? Did he ever think about taking that step off the ledge? Did he have anyone to talk to about all that? What was his home life like? Was Alfred even okay, or was he just pretending to be?

There are two kinds of evil, and Arthur knew that. There are people who do evil things…and there are also people who _see _evil things and do nothing to stop it.

It was on his way to gym that afternoon when something inside Arthur erupted to life. Perhaps he had thought too much about the insults he heard. Perhaps it was seeing the boy's face when the locker door was slammed shut before him. Maybe it was on the way to gym when three boys grabbed Alfred on the back stairwell and shoved him down the stairs. Perhaps it was right then, as Arthur Kirkland stood at the top of the stairs, and saw the boy lying on the floor. Maybe it was the way Alfred tried not to cry and rose, shaking, onto his hands and knees, to collect his belongings, as Arthur continued to watch, and the rest of the world simply ignored the teen. Perhaps it was at that split second that Arthur decided he was the one that could provide a change. He would be the one to fight back.

Arthur followed Alfred down the stairs, and then into the gym. The journey to the locker room was not long, and Arthur chose his typical spot to get changed, near a few of the benches sitting near the wall. The other boys were laughing about something, but Arthur wasn't sure what. He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye at them, and had to admit, they made him more than slightly sick.

Stripping off his shirt above his head, Arthur began to change, glancing over in Alfred's direction, more curious than anything. The boy stood alone in the corner, his back to the remainder of the world. Arthur had never really noticed Alfred before, especially physically. Alfred seemed tiny; he was short and his back was not very wide. Arthur studied the curve of the boy's abdomen. Alfred may have had some chub on him, but Arthur could not say the boy was fat. His shoulders were round and soft, and his skin, sans the acne on his forehead and the slight appearance of stretch marks on his side, looked smooth and clear and, well, _perfect._

It was then Arthur realized he had been staring. Alfred was staring back at him, looking like a deer in headlights, his cheeks rapidly darkening in color due to a rush of blood from a blush. Arthur said nothing. He simply flashed the boy the biggest smile he could muster, and went back to changing.

Gym took its usual course. Stretches, warm-ups, a few laps that needed to be ran, and then a group activity. That was how it always went after all. Today was basketball. Arthur had to admit, he wasn't the best, but he could dribble and pass and shoot if he had to. Alfred was on the opposite team today and Arthur noticed, as he ran up and down the court, that the boy simply placed himself on the sidelines and refused to move. Someone at some point threw the ball at Alfred on purpose and it hit him square in the chest, and the kid simply stood there frozen with the ball cradled in his hands.

Needless to say that had not gone well the remainder of his team.

Gym always flew by for Arthur. It seemed to go by even faster today; the entire day had. Perhaps it was due to him being so preoccupied with Alfred. Arthur had to admit, when everyone filed back into the locker room, he felt more than just a little nervous. He had been planning on what to say, but he was not sure how it was going to sound. He wasn't sure if he should even go through with it.

The loud yelp that greeted his ears instantly changed his mind.

Arthur turned a bit, frowning, shirt half pulled over his head. Alfred stood between two quarterbacks. What Arthur instantly noticed was that Alfred was yet to have a shirt covering him, and one of his arms desperately tried to hide himself. He was standing on tiptoe, trying to reach the bag that held his clothes, being held far out of his reach by one of the boys. Whenever Alfred got too close, the boy would simply knock him down and throw the bag to the other quarterback, and the process would start again.

Alfred's face had turned bloody red with embarrassment, clearly ashamed and being humiliated. The boys seemed to be enjoying themselves plenty, especially when Alfred's eyes began to visibly fill up with tears. The laughter got louder and a few boys started joining in, and it was not long before Alfred was crying.

It was at that moment something stirred deep in Arthur's guts. The soccer player dropped what he had been doing and approached the group that was forming, shoving a boy out of the way to get into the middle of the circle. He approached what appeared to be the ringleader, a boy around six feet and nearly twice Arthur's width. A slight hush fell over the group as Arthur moved closer, his shoes soundless on the floor. The blonde prodded the bigger teen in the chest with a pale, slender finger. He simply glared up at him, those emerald eyes acidic and suddenly very dangerous.

"Look. You and I are both seniors here. Almost all of us are. And it'd be a real favor if you would stop making the rest of us look bad. This is not elementary school. Grow up."

At times, Arthur was glad for his popularity. He seemed to have an unseen power that gave him strength others did not have. Slowly, very slowly, the boy before him lowered the bag to Arthur's level. Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur snatched it away. He threw it to Alfred, who thankfully managed to catch it, and instantly used it to shield himself.

For a moment, no one moved. Arthur had started to walk back to his spot, now stripping down his shorts to change back into his dark colored jeans. The stillness was beginning to irk him. With a sharp snarl he looked over his shoulder, and barked, "what are you lot still doing just standing there?!"

Instantly, the room began to move again. The remaining boys went back to changing. Arthur noticed the room was quieter. Calmer. It seemed like the others were trying to be less noisy as if to keep Arthur from becoming aggravated any further.

One by one, the boys began to leave. Arthur watched them go out of the corner of his eye. In the meantime, the soccer player had placed himself on a bench, absently tying and retying his boots to pass the time. And at last, Arthur got what he wanted. All that was left was him and Alfred.

Arthur watched him grab his bag and make a beeline for the door. It was then Arthur hopped to his feet, and took several paces forward. Alfred noticeably backed up a few in response. Arthur frowned at that, mutely looking the boy up and down for a moment. And then all he did was sigh.

"Look, you don't have to be scared of me, boy. I'm just trying to help, okay? I just wanted to say I'm sorry for not helping you out sooner." Arthur folded his arms across his chest. "…So, I guess what I'm just trying to tell you is that you can count on me, okay?"

Alfred blinked. He blushed a little and shrugged, but then nodded very slowly, as if mutely agreeing. Arthur frowned at that reaction though. Was the boy just going along with whatever he said to get him to shut up and leave him alone?

Arthur didn't move for a long moment. He unfolded his arms and then put a hand on his collarbone, absently tracing it as he tried to think. Alfred was just _staring _at him, that same glazed look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm not really the best with this stuff." Arthur smiled a little, looking down at his shoes for a split second. Oh, God. His heart was hammering all of a sudden. His stomach felt too tight and knotted. "Um… Well, I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland—"

"I know." That was all Alfred said. He interrupted and then instantly fell silent once more. The fear seemed to have melted away now, but all that was left was a heavy sadness that seemed to be radiating off the boy.

"…Well… Can you tell me who you are?" Arthur asked gently. Alfred did not seem to want to answer. He simply dug the toe of his shoe into the tile and kept his gaze down. "I just wanna know your name, is all. Your _actual _name, not Jones or whatever those kids call you."

"…It's Alfred." At last it came out, and the boy seemed to shrink further inside of himself. His shoulders squeezed up inside his pinstripe shirt and his hand tightened violently on the strap of his bag. "Alfred Jones."

"Alfred, huh? You don't seem like an Alfred." What was he saying? His body felt warm. Was he talking too much? Should he just let the boy leave? Ugh, he was probably only embarrassing himself. "Okay, well… Um… Oh! Hang on."

Arthur then bent over, digging through his backpack. There was a soft rip as he tore out a slip of paper from a notebook, and dug out a pen. After a brief moment of scribbling, Arthur handed the strip over to the chubby teenager. He then threw the pen back into his backpack.

"That's my cell number. Um… If you ever wanna just chat or hang out, feel free to text me or call me sometime or something." Arthur suddenly grinned. Unknown to him, he was turning pink with embarrassment, and he folded his arms again. Could Alfred hear how loud and hard his heart was beating? "It was nice meeting you though. I guess I'll see you later, okay?"

Alfred stared down at the slip of notebook paper in his hand for a long moment. He seemed to be processing something. At last he looked up and simply nodded. And it was then that Arthur watched him leave. Alfred took off with hurried steps, clutching his bag for dear life as he ran out of the locker room.

When the door closed, Arthur released a breath he did not know he had been holding. He felt… He felt warm, fuzzy. He felt really nice. A rather dopey smile crossed Arthur's lips all of a sudden. With a long, happy sigh, Arthur stooped down to grab his bag.

He was not typically one for nervousness. Arthur was one who often thrived on impulse. He was good at talking to people, and people always talked back. He was a charmer and had excellent people skills. But talking to Alfred… His tongue proceeded to get twisted, he had problems thinking straight, and an even worse time communicating. He wanted to just keep talking until his lips fell off.

If he was being honest with himself, he was curious as to when Alfred would first contact him. The thought of Alfred calling him made his insides flutter. The way he'd get to hear Alfred's voice again and get to actually _talk _to him… Arthur's smile widened a bit.

But, unknown to Arthur at that time, Alfred had no intentions of contacting him. He had crumpled up the slip of paper and threw it in a garbage can before he had even left campus.

* * *

It was some kind of a joke. It had to be. There was no way in hell _the _Arthur Kirkland had willingly gave his number away to some loser like himself.

Alfred bit harshly down on his lower lip as he sat on his bed. He was cast on his back, staring up at his ceiling. He studied the posters he had there. They were all space related. He had one of the moon and its phases, a map of the universe, a view of earth from space, the Carina, Soul, and Orion Nebulas, and a few of the Northern Lights.

He had wanted to be an astronaut ever since he was a little kid. He had dreamed of that clunky white suit and being submerged in a place almost void of human life. It would just be him, his crewmates, and the stars.

But things changed, just a little. For now, he wanted to simply be an astronomer. His brain thrived on science. It made sense to him. He loved it. The thought of being able to spend the rest of his life doing something he loved sounded heavenly.

And, well, having crewmates that actually treated him humanely sounded like a dream come true.

With a grunt, Alfred pushed himself up. He tried to ignore reality for the moment. He tried to ignore the sound of the television that echoed in the silent house from downstairs. He tried to ignore how itchy and dry his eyes felt from crying. He tried to ignore how alone he felt, how hurt he felt, how angry he felt. He tried to ignore the full feeling from overeating, and tried to ignore how heavy and huge he felt.

Most of all, he tried to ignore how much he hated himself.

The feeling of a teardrop on his cheek did not seem to faze Alfred at all. He simply scrubbed it off with the back of his hand. He felt entirely miserable. He felt… Alfred couldn't really say anymore. He felt constantly weighed down. He was always exhausted and upset and crying. He was always miserable and it was getting harder to find light in the dark.

He closed his eyes. Almost instantly he was bombarded by scenarios he did not want to remember. The bullying, the insults, the punching and kicking, the pain all flashed through his brain in seconds. Spots of his skin were suddenly throbbing, even though the bruises there had long since faded away. He could remember being laughed at, humiliated, pushed to the dirt, and walked on.

Something in his heart squeezed painfully tight and a few tears leaked from behind his eyelids.

_Go ahead. No one would miss you. _The little voices in his head were getting too loud again, and Alfred tensed violently on the bed. He tried to block it out, he tried to ignore it, and that made it angry. His mind was screaming, reeling, _bellowing. _Everything suddenly felt like it was suffocating him. It felt like there was not enough air in his lungs. Alfred began dry heaving, struggling to breathe properly, the anxiety completely shutting him down. The tears began pouring, and the sobbing erupted from his mouth only moments later. _Do it, you know you want to._

Oh, God. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do it anymore. It sounded too tempting, it really did. Everything suddenly seemed too dark, too hopeless, and he was struggling so badly to fight back. Alfred was practically wailing as he hunched over the edge of the bed.

His hand shot out to his desk and began a violent, desperate search for a phone. His hands were shaking. His mouth felt so dry and his eyes were producing an ocean. The little voice seemed so large now, too big for him to handle, and he was terrified.

He found his phone buried underneath a mountain of schoolwork, and flipped it open as fast as he could. He only had a few contacts, so it did not take long to find who he was looking for. As soon as Alfred hit the call button to dial Ivan's cell, he tried his best to suck it up, but he just couldn't stop.

One ring. Two. After the third and fourth Alfred felt a sickening drop in his stomach. Finally, on the fifth, he heard that sharp accent, and Alfred couldn't control it anymore.

"Ivan, I need you to come over. Please, _please, _I can't do this anymore—" Short fingernails dug into clammy skin. He began to scratch, almost violently, trying something, anything, to keep the thoughts at bay. He felt like he was going to be sick. He wanted out, he _needed _out. The boy was crying his heart out, no longer able to hear Ivan over his own sobbing. "Please Ivan, it hurts, it _hurts."_

Ivan was screaming. His twisted English sounded so muffled, so contorted, and Alfred could not understand him. He could barely hear a thing sounds the voice spewing words at him and the sound of blood rushing through his ears. The line went dead of all of a sudden. Alfred's phone crashed to the floor, and, bawling, the boy shoved his face into his hands.

_There were hands. They shoved him around, and pushed him into the dirt. There were words being hurled at him. There were tears tumbling down his cheeks as his body started to change, and the acidic insults increased. It was too much, like a knife ripping through the tissue of his heart in rough, jagged movements._

"_Al?! Al! Alfred, _look _at me!" More hands. He barely had the strength to hold his eyes open, let alone pick his head up off the floor. Blonde tresses that were showing signs of gray fell into icy blue eyes. Aged hands were shaking him violently by the shoulder. He felt so heavy, but it felt so good. "Alfred, can you hear me?!"_

"_Ah, damn. Looks like you're still stuck here. What a shame." Laughter. Hands that pushed him down. Kicks, punches, spit landing on his cheek. "Whatever. We'll keep hoping."_

"_Alfred, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" The pen was clicking rapidly. "Do you know why your father brought you here today? How are you feeling?"_

He barely made it to the bathroom in time to vomit.

He was shaking violently now as he slumped to the floor. His limbs were trembling, palms too, and the anxiety left him with a partially closed throat and erratic pulse. The sweat tumbled down his face and he rested his head on the toilet seat, his stomach still violently fighting back. The tears did not want to stop, and neither did the thoughts.

Eventually, he calmed down slightly. His pulse stopped throbbing in his ears. He could finally breathe. He swallowed roughly, feeling beads of cold sweat drip down the sides of his face. He was still trembling a little. The peak of the panic attack had passed, but he was still getting little aftershocks. His stomach still flopped a little and he swallowed another wave of stomach acid, doing his best not to puke a second time.

He rested a sweaty cheek on the rim of the toilet and closed his eyes. He felt so heavy all of a sudden. It felt like something was sitting on his chest. Something big and heavy, like an elephant. He still felt like he needed to cry some more, but nothing came out. His eyes were sticky and itchy but no more tears fell from his ducts. He felt so empty and exhausted. He needed to sleep. He kept his eyes closed and finally willed his stiff, rigid body to relax.

There was a slam from downstairs. Alfred paid it no mind at first until he heard that voice, thick with accent, screaming his name. Alfred picked his head up, and simply screeched 'Ivan' at the top of his lungs to get the boy's attention. He then simply put his head back down and closed his heavy eyes.

He could hear Ivan ascending the stairs. His footsteps were loud and clunky and Alfred could hear heavy pants coming from his mouth. At last, Ivan made it upstairs, and came crashing into the bathroom. Alfred didn't move or say anything.

"Alfred?" The taller teenager set foot into the bathroom, his black combat boots sounding heavy on the gray tile. Ivan shuffled over to where Alfred was sitting, and squatted down next to him. Alfred's eyes creaked open. They were glazed over. "Are you okay?"

Who was he kidding? The boy had just called him practically screaming that he wanted to kill himself, of course he wasn't okay. Ivan bit down on his lower lip worriedly. This had not been the first time Alfred had acted this way since they had met. Alfred had called him various times to ask for help, just needing someone to talk to, to 'distract him for a while'. But Alfred had never called him screaming and crying like that before.

And Ivan would be lying if he said it wasn't worrisome.

Alfred looked a mess. His hair was tousled. His cheeks were red and marked from tears. His eyes were bloodshot. Ivan could smell vomit on the boy's breath. He looked sweaty, but so very exhausted.

"Alfred?" Ivan spoke again. Alfred had yet to say a word. The shorter teen's eyes creaked open again. "Want to sleep?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He just nodded. He shifted his weight a bit and at last picked his head up. Using the toilet for balance, Alfred attempted to heave himself up. Ivan remained squatted on the floor. As soon as he saw Alfred's legs shaking he instantly stood up himself, offering the boy an arm to wrap about his shoulders.

"Come on." Ivan said softly, helping to support the boy. Alfred's head lolled sideways and rested against Ivan's huge shoulder, and he tried his best to walk, but his legs didn't cooperate very well. Ivan helped lead him back to his room. The Russian helped him back onto the bed.

Alfred crawled under the covers, burrowing as much of himself into the mattress as he possibly could. Ivan stood next to the bed awkwardly, just watching for a moment.

"You can leave or sit down if you want." Alfred's voice was a tiny whisper in the stillness. Ivan instantly moved, choosing to seat himself on the unoccupied side of the bed. He simply sat there and watched Alfred for a moment. The boy's chest was barely moving, his breathing sounding so shallow. His eyes were closing again.

For a moment, Ivan thought the boy had fallen asleep. Alfred was entirely silent and the sheets on his bed had seemed to engulf his chubby frame. Ivan wasn't sure of what to do. A part of him wanted to stay but another wanted to leave.

"I'm really sorry." Alfred spoke out of the blue suddenly. His eyes cracked open and Ivan saw a teardrop roll down his face, following the crease of his nose. "I'm sorry to be a pest, Ivan. I really am. I didn't do anything, I just… God, I'm sorry to waste your time."

"You aren't." Ivan's voice was equally quiet. He slowly flopped down on the bed and looked up at the posters on Alfred's ceiling. "I glad you okay."

Alfred hiccupped softly. His chest gave a faint tremble under the covers and he curled up a little more. Ivan was staring at him again, wanting to ask questions, wanting to talk, but he knew better.

"I want to sleep forever." Finally, it came out. Alfred did not dare to open his eyes. His voice sounded so small, so sad. "Like a really deep sleep…where all my dreams are really happy. Where everything is happy. And it'll feel really good and everyone will like me and I won't be sad anymore. I won't be tired anymore. I'd just sleep and sleep and…I'd… I'd never wake up ever again."

Ivan did not know how to respond to those words. He simply did not know what to say. There was nothing he _could _say.

Alfred fell asleep. Ivan did not notice at first until Alfred began to snore softly, which brought Ivan out of his thoughts. He sat up a bit, studying the boy's face for a moment. He had seen Alfred pass out like this a couple times before, and if he was being honest, he liked it better that way. Seeing Alfred sleep, rather than being awake, made him look so much more at ease. He wore a peaceful expression majority of the time when he slept, and even now, after suffering, he at least looked a little happier.

Ivan leaned over a bit more. He gently grabbed the thick frames of Alfred's giant glasses, and slipped them off slowly. The most Alfred do was stir a little, before settling down. Ivan folded the glasses up and reached over to set them on the nightstand.

Ivan then focused his attention back on Alfred. The boy looked even younger without his glasses on. He looked younger and healthier and, if he dared to admit it, all the more appealing.

It made Ivan a little sick. He felt so uncomfortable these days with how he viewed Alfred. He liked protecting Alfred. He liked talking to him and helping him and being there for him. He liked hearing Alfred talk and, on those days that seemed more like a blue moon, seeing Alfred smile.

He really liked Alfred, and knowing that made him uncomfortable. It was not the type of 'liking' that made him want to kiss the boy or anything of the such, but… He wanted Alfred to smile. He wanted to see him happy and he wanted to hug him until the sadness burst out him.

That was different, right?

Ivan sighed a bit and heaved himself off the bed. Alfred mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over, curling up into a little ball under his duvet. Ivan studied him for a split second longer before he stepped away from the bed.

Alfred had an interesting room, and Ivan knew it, despite only setting foot in it a few times. The posters hanging on the ceiling fascinated him and yet confused him. Alfred's walls were a very soft blue color, so pale it almost looked white. Alfred's bed was decorated with a simplistic black and white theme, and the railing was a deep onyx color to match. His bedside table looked rather bare. Upon it were the clunky glasses, an alarm clock, and a novel with a bookmark peeking from between two pages. The desk was on the opposite side of the bed. Alfred had books and papers piled sky high. There was also a black lamp and a ceramic cup full of black pens and mechanical pencils.

What caught Ivan's attention the most was the wall furthest from the door. There was a window in the center, covered by dark curtains. But what seemed so bizarre were the tack boards. Alfred had two of them, and they were huge, one mounted on each side of the window. There were photographs secured there by pushpins, and Ivan walked closer to inspect them.

The pictures showed various timeframes, but most of which were from when Alfred was younger. It was not hard finding the boy in the photographs. Alfred's hair had that same swooping cowlick, and was still the same glowing color. But what was different in Ivan's eyes were the smiles that plastered Alfred's lips. He was playing with a boy that was his same size, a bit of hair curling in front of his face. The pair were together in majority of the shots, looking almost too alike. At first Ivan thought it was the boy's brother or something similar, but Alfred had never told him he had siblings.

Other shots were similar. There was a man and woman in some of the other pictures, and Ivan paused, assuming that they were Alfred's parents. Alfred never talked about his mother, but had told Ivan once that she was still alive. There was no denying the man was Alfred's father. They both had that same cowlick, those icy blue eyes, and smiles that seemed to light up the world.

Ivan paused and glanced over at the bed. Alfred appeared to be nothing more than a giant lump under the blankets, his snoring soft but audible. Ivan then glanced at the pictures again and frowned.

How could a boy so full of light and smiles suddenly turn so dark, empty, and sad?

* * *

Chapter 3: End.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello again! Ahh, well, here is the next chapter! Thank you for your patience and for so many lovely reviews. It really made me happy. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Warnings: just swearing this chapter.

* * *

Arthur's thoughts became plagued with Alfred. That night had been nearly sleepless. He could not keep his mind off the boy, try as he might. Arthur, at some point, had simply shoved his head against the pillow and stared at the window for hours with half-lidded eyes. He was tired but he could not sleep. His brain was simply too active.

A rather large chunk of him was surprised by the silence he received. He had spent more time than he had wanted to admit checking his phone for messages. But he could check as many times as he wanted; Alfred never sent a message.

Why? Why did the boy not wish to talk to him? The question puzzled Arthur greatly. The boy obviously had no friends. Arthur could have sworn Alfred would be happy by the sudden attention. And come on, it was coming from Arthur! Wouldn't someone be happy if one of the most popular people in the school took interest in him or her? Arthur could have sworn Alfred would be overjoyed that someone like himself showed he was interested.

But it was so painfully obvious to Arthur suddenly that Alfred was, in fact, not at all interested in return. He never responded to Arthur's offer. He did not wish to play along. And, in Arthur's eyes, it was more irritating than anything else.

Besides! Alfred seemed to be friends with that Russian boy. What did that boy have that he didn't? He was Arthur Kirkland for God's sake! He was attractive and wealthy and had popularity that soared through the roof. What on earth did Ivan have that Arthur didn't? What did Ivan have that made Alfred talk to him, but not to Arthur?

And a rather large part of Arthur really wanted to know what that mysterious thing was.

"What a lovely scowl you have there, eyebrows." Francis's voice brought him crashing back to earth. "May I ask what has our little Arthur so irritated?"

"Nothing." Contrary to his words, Arthur drove his fork rather forcefully into a chunk of his salad. "It's none of your business."

"Oh, come on now. There's no need to be snappy with the rest of us just because you're in a bad mood."

God, that stupid smirk. Arthur just wanted to slap it off his face. Arthur said nothing in response. For now he just settled for roughly stabbing his food and pretended it was Francis's face.

Unknown to Arthur, however, he had done plenty of staring by this point. Without being conscious of it, he had continued to occasionally lift his head and steal glances at Alfred's table. Perhaps he had not noticed, but the others at his table definitely had.

"You sure have taken a sudden interest in that Russian boy, haven't you?"

Arthur instantly jerked in response, nearly sending the plastic container of green hurtling to the floor. His emerald eyes glared at the Frenchman; anger seemed to be suddenly radiating off of him.

"I have _not_!" His voice came out much more forceful than he intended. Francis instantly smiled in response. It was a calm, almost "I knew it" smile, and it only made Arthur angrier. And Francis knew, almost instantly, that he had hit the nail on the head. The angrier and more defensive Arthur became, the more obvious it was that Francis was correct.

"No need to get so annoyed, eyebrows. Come on, you can tell us! It will be our little secret! Maybe you should—"

"Francis, I swear, if you tell me I should go talk to that Russian kid, I'm going to strangle you with my own hands. I don't _want _to talk to him." Arthur paused for a moment, before his words came out in a low hiss. "…I don't like him. Hate him, maybe not, but I don't like him."

"Oh? And why is that? To the best of my knowledge, you two have never even spoken to each other." But Francis knew. He wasn't blind, nor was he stupid. If Arthur's glances had not all been fueled by the sight of Ivan, then there was only one person left. And that was Alfred. Arthur had been staring at the overweight teen several times, in between dirty looks toward Ivan. And in Francis's brain, it all added up. "Perhaps someone else at that table has occupied your attention instead?"

"I'm not talking about this with you bloody lot." Arthur roughly grabbed his backpack in one hand, salad in the other, and stood up roughly. The rest of the table looked up in response, confusion crossing some faces while frustrated expressions crossed others. "Piss off."

The trio took a moment to watch Arthur leave before they exchanged glances. Antonio and Gilbert began mumbling to each other concerning Arthur's outburst, mainly with confusion. Surely there was no denying that Arthur had a short fuse.

But all Francis did was smile.

* * *

The rest of the day was filled with rain. Alfred could hear the downpour battering the roof of the gymnasium, despite the din of the other boys.

And even when class ended, the rain did not stop. If anything, it was pouring harder. Alfred had managed to squirm his way out of a beating that day, much to his surprise. Maybe it was by some grace of a higher being. Luck perhaps. Alfred didn't know and he didn't care. He was just glad he was still in one piece for another day.

And now, here he stood in the school's main lobby. At first he had debated taking the back door like usual, but with that rain and no umbrella, he would rather take the shortest possible route.

The outside world was dim and Alfred watched through the window as water battered the world. He watched kids sprint through the parking lot, screaming almost, desperate for shelter.

He jumped at the small pat on his back. Instantly, Alfred whirled around, tense, but visibly deflated as he realized it was Ivan standing behind him. Alfred's gaze visibly flicked from Ivan's face to the dark purple umbrella clutched in his hand.

"I walk home with you," Ivan offered, shaking the umbrella slightly as if to make a point.

Alfred frowned a bit at that offer. He did not mind walking home with Ivan. That was not the problem. The problem, in Alfred's eyes, was that Ivan usually took the bus home. And the thought of the Russian being stuck to walk home in the rain just because of him was not something that particularly tickled Alfred's fancy.

"Let me walk you, Alfred." Ivan's huge hand visibly grew a bit tighter on the umbrella. Alfred flicked his gaze up to Ivan's pale face, framed by snowy hair, and studied those eyes. Alfred understood it easily enough. He could see the glow of worry yet eagerness in those orbs. Ivan just wanted to keep him company.

"On one condition." Alfred had then begun to walk to the door. He shoved it open, and the pair were instantly struck by a gush of damp, cold air. "You'll have to wait out the rain at my place. I don't want you traveling back in that."

"Deal." Ivan's footsteps blended in with Alfred's as he picked up the pace in order to catch up with the blonde. He opened the umbrella, therefore shielding the two of them from the elements of the world.

They simply began to walk in silence. Alfred simply listened to what the world had to say. He heard other people. He heard the hums of buses and cars. He heard the sot patter of raindrops against the umbrella. He heard the somehow comforting sloshes of water puddles being struck by feet.

They were nearly off campus when the rain increased. Ivan's head tipped back to inspect the sky, frowning at the streak of golden lightning that struck overhead.

But they continued to walk. Alfred wasn't sure how long it was, but all he knew was that there was a truck slowing down beside them as they walked in the ditch. The vehicle began to match their walking speed, and then the driver's window rolled down halfway.

Alfred was sure he felt his heart stop when he saw Arthur staring back at him from inside the truck.

He heard an animalistic growl come from the depths of Ivan's throat. Arthur was smiling, squinting a bit due to the rain trying to pour into his truck.

"You guys need a lift?" He had to yell for the pair to hear him. "It's supposed to get really bad here in a few minutes."

The sudden, loud rumble of thunder seemed to only support Arthur's words. The wind had picked up now as well, blowing water sideways and wetting the duo from underneath the umbrella. Said item was jerking in Ivan's hand as well, desperate to escape into the heavy winds.

Avoiding eye contact, Alfred simply ignored the other and attempted to keep walking.

"Look, I'm just trying to help you, okay?!" Arthur let his truck coast forward slightly to keep up with the pair. "You let _him _help you!"

Arthur suddenly shoved a hand in Ivan's direction. Those green eyes looked suddenly furious, and that infamous Kirkland temper was kicking in. His voice was louder and Alfred visibly took a step backwards, more than likely in fear.

Ivan, however, did not move. He simply stared at Arthur for a moment, the gears in his brain clicking and whirring. He studied those emerald eyes, the coarse emotions on that face, the jerky hand thrust in accusation at him. And then it clicked in Ivan's brain.

Arthur Kirkland was jealous of _him._

Alfred blinked in surprise as Ivan moved closer to the black vehicle. He closed up his umbrella and jerked open the passenger door. Arthur seemed just as shocked as Alfred, frozen in his driver's seat and staring at Ivan with huge green eyes.

Ivan scooted over to make room for Alfred, who was still standing in the ditch, becoming soaked to the bone from the rain tumbling from the heavens.

"Get in truck, Alfred."

Ivan's voice spurred the boy to move. It took a long moment of struggling before Alfred actually managed to clamber into the seat and close the door. After all, it was a long way from the ground. By this point Alfred was soaked and shivering. He curled up the best he could in his seat.

Alfred then brushed his dripping bangs out of his eyes. He couldn't see very well; the lenses of his glasses were splattered by rainwater. Arthur remained still in his seat, emerald eyes watching the two outcasts through the rearview mirror. His hands gripped the wheel tightly, so roughly that his knuckles went white, when he saw Ivan lean over and try to help dry up the water on Alfred's face.

His stomach burned. Arthur's lip curled in an absent snarl, jealousy and anger and hatred flaring deep inside of him. His jaw visibly tightened when Ivan's eyes suddenly rose to meet his gaze. Those irises looked almost lavender—

"You wanted to give ride, so go." The Russian's voice was suddenly low, a type of rumble emitting from the pale throat hidden by wet, pink fabric. "_Now."_

Alfred didn't even flinch. He kept his gaze and head down, working on trying to warm himself up despite the water pouring out of him. Ivan's shift in tone did not appear to catch his attention at all.

Arthur, however, had jumped a bit. He shoved his truck back into drive – giving Ivan a nasty look in the process – and then roughly hit the gas. He did not want to listen to Ivan, he wanted so badly to throw him out, but if he went, Alfred would surely go with him.

He couldn't say he wanted Alfred to leave yet.

Rain battered the truck as they drove. There was complete silence otherwise, the air heavy and thick with tension. Ivan was glaring at the back of Arthur's head, which the teen could see when he stole glanced into his rearview mirror.

Alfred was anxious. He had begun to scratch a random patch of skin on his arm as he stared down at his lap.

"Left." Ivan suddenly announced. And Arthur, partially unwillingly, obeyed. He followed Ivan's directions as instructed. Arthur was annoyed, but he knew better than to argue. He had offered the ride, and he had to take Alfred home. Maybe this way though…Alfred would see he really did just mean well.

The closer they grew to Alfred's home, however, the more he began to scratch. The sudden anxiety was going through the roof. His skin began to turn red and they made it to Alfred's street when he could not stop the nerves from taking over him. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Let me out." His voice was slightly hoarse. He was shivering from cold. He felt lightheaded and his heart felt like it was being forced into his windpipe.

"But you're almost home," Arthur replied, not seeming to entirely pick up on Alfred's rush of nervousness. He let his gaze flick to Alfred via the rearview mirror. "Come on, I just—"

"I said for you to stop and let me out!" Alfred's voice rose. He was nearly screaming now. His palms were shaking. He felt a rush of relief when Arthur slammed on the brakes, and before they made a complete stop, Alfred's hand was already grabbing at the door handle.

It was locked.

Alfred saw no pad for him to unlock the door himself. Before he had a chance to speak, however, Arthur swiveled around in his seat. He had put the truck in park, his hands free now. He looked furious. Alfred recognized those eyes. They were angry eyes, eyes that proved just how irritated and annoyed and disgusted someone could get with him. They were the same pair of eyes everyone else looked at him with.

Oh, God, he was going to puke.

"Let me ask you something. I've been trying to be nice! I've tried to be helpful! But no matter what I do to try to help you, you only push me further away!" Arthur frowned deeply, edge cutting his words. "Is it a game to you? Is that it? Because no matter what I do, you just keep blowing me off!"

And something inside Alfred's brain reacted in response to those words.

"How about you stay out of my life then if you don't like it?! I didn't ask for your 'help'! I didn't ask for your pity! I don't need sympathy from anyone, got it?! I may be ugly, I may be fat, and maybe I am a nerd. Maybe I'm just as worthless as everyone tells me I am, but I don't need anyone's pity." Alfred's short nails dug into the leather seat. "It seems like it's more of a game to you than it is to me. You honestly expect me to let you in? To trust you? Do you have any idea of what I've been through? After everything I've endured and _still _suffer through, you truly and honestly expect me to blindly accept you into my life? No, _hell _no, I'm not stupid. You're just like everyone else. I know you are. So don't try to act like you're something special, because I know you aren't. You don't know my life, Arthur. You really don't. Don't act like you do. Or, better yet, assume that you do, because the only thing you're doing is making yourself look like a naïve ass."

His hand jerked the door handle again. Ivan was quiet as he watched the boy. The managed to lean up a bit and snake his arm to the passenger door panel, unlocking the door, rather thankful for his long arms right then. The second the door clicked, Alfred threw it open, and jumped out. He nearly fell, but then simply began to run. He tore down the sidewalk as fast as he could go, rain striking in violent waves and his shoes and clothing filling up with water.

Ivan grabbed both of their backpacks and practically flew out of the car. He barely remembered to close the door to the truck and took off after the boy, screaming after him. Alfred was slowing down, stamina awfully low, and Ivan quickly grabbed onto his arm to make him stop running.

Alfred instantly bowed his head, but despite the blonde hair covering his eyes, Ivan saw those round shoulders shaking, and heard little sobs coming out of Alfred's mouth.

It was then that Ivan offered the best comfort he could, with soft words that were barely heard over the noise of rain. He offered Alfred an arm and wrapped it about those round, tiny shoulders, and began to walk.

Arthur, however, was motionless in his truck. Alfred's words were like a bullet to the brain. He stared down at the steering wheel with unfocused eyes.

Alfred did not even trust him. That was the problem. All of his efforts were truly meaningless because the chubby boy was not even willing to open his heart for Arthur, to give him a chance.

And that stung worse than anything Arthur had ever felt in his entire life.

So what _could _he do? Alfred suspected it all to be a cruel joke. What could he do to show Alfred he really meant it?

Arthur looked up. The streets were empty. Alfred and Ivan had vanished. Arthur could only assume the pair had gone inside one of the homes.

Arthur stared out the windshield and into the street for a long time. Something inside of him was hurting. His heart, perhaps.

Alfred's words were playing on repeat in his brain. Arthur's hand went to the dial of the radio and he spun it roughly, therefore increasing the volume. He simply let the heavy rock pour through his speakers and down into his ears.

Arthur shoved the truck back into drive and floored the gas. Everything jerked roughly and he powered down the street. The chain suspended from his rearview mirror swayed back and forth like a pendulum.

The look on Alfred's face was imprinted in Arthur's brain.

* * *

It was cold. Alfred had stopped crying and was now curled up in the blankets on his bed. Ivan had helped him with his wet clothing, which now hung in his shower by a coat hanger. Alfred had changed into his pajamas, still shivering even now.

Ivan had borrowed clothing that belonged to Alfred's father. The outfit had gone untouched in the closet for months anyway. Alfred's father was of a large build than his son, but Ivan could still out show him in height and width. It was a bit obvious too; it seemed like Ivan had struggled to become comfortable in the skin-hugging fabric.

"Why did you accept his offer of getting in the truck?" Alfred asked. His voice was but a mumble in the stillness. "You didn't even ask _me _first."

"Sorry." Ivan seemed to be thinking hard about something for a long time. He was perched on the foot of Alfred's bed, staring down at the comforter. Alfred's face, framed by that mess of blonde hair, peeked out of the blankets. "I… I thought it go better than did."

Alfred frowned. Ivan seemed frustrated. His thin lips were pursed tightly together, as if he was mulling over something as deeply as he could.

"But what made you…want to get in the truck with him?" Alfred tried again. He watched Ivan's brow twitch. The bigger male seemed stressed. Alfred slowly crawled out of the blankets and waddled over to Ivan on his hands and knees, before he sat down beside him. "Talk to me."

"Arthur is jealous." Ivan finally spat it out. He refused to look Alfred in the eye. He just stared down at his large hands that had palms decorated with calluses. "Jealous of me."

Alfred stared back at him with upraised eyebrows. Confusion littered that round face. Silence settled between them briefly. Ivan forced himself up from the bed and began pacing. He was staring down at his feet, hidden by light pink socks, as he wandered back and forth. Alfred sat perched on the bed and watched him at first.

"Arthur is jealous that I help you. He jealous that you let me do things but he not allowed to do things. You know? I get to talk to you but he does not." Ivan ran his thick fingers through his bangs. "He want to treat you like I treat you but he unhappy because you do not let him. That is why he frustrated."

"So you accepted his stupid little offer because he's _jealous _of you?" Alfred actually snorted. He looked down at the bedsheets and drew an absent pattern with his index finger. "He's just trying to set us up, big guy. That's all it is. He'll get us right where he wants us, and then…_boom. _He'll hurt us just like everyone else. The popular guys are always the worst—"

"Alfred, I not think Arthur wants to hurt you." Ivan interrupted Alfred. The language barrier sometimes irritated the both of them, but Ivan was trying his best. "He look sad when he said those things. He looked sad and mad. He kept looking at you in mirror while driving too. I think Arthur like you."

Alfred just stared at the Russian boy as if he had grown an extra limb. What was Ivan even saying? It was stupid. It made no sense and it was idiotic and it was… It hurt his insides and it was embarrassing. It was one hell of a joke, that was for sure.

"Arthur Kirkland would never have a crush on me." Alfred's voice was dry. "No one on the damn planet likes me as a person. I highly doubt someone like him actually _like _likes me."

"Alfred… I think he does. Those looks in truck, I… I think Arthur is serious." Ivan glanced over at Alfred now. The overweight teen had turned a soft pink. The more Ivan said though, the closer to a shade of scarlet he turned. "And if not a crush, he at least wants to be friend."

"So what is it you're suggesting?" Alfred's voice was more than slightly tense. He felt nervous just thinking about all of this. Having the most popular boy in the entire student body suddenly crushing on him…or, at least, wanting to be his friend… It was something Alfred had never even thought about. It was just impossible. That was simply not meant to be! He was Alfred. He was short and fat and he didn't fit in. Arthur was slightly built and a normal height and popular, and, well, he certainly wasn't ugly. They were nearly polar opposites. "You really expect me to believe all this?"

"Not quite." Ivan shrugged his shoulders slightly. He absently grabbed some of the blankets and wrapped himself up. "I not expect you to listen. You stubborn. But as your friend, I want to try to talk about these things sometimes. I want to be honest. I want to help, yes? I not want you to be sad forever, Alfred."

The silence settled between them again. Alfred's face remained bloody red, even then. The more he thought about it, the more humiliating it was. He just couldn't wrap his head about it. He just couldn't. There was no _way…_

"What should I do?" At last, Alfred spoke. His voice was quiet and shaking. Ivan glanced over at the boy, and for a split second, he realized just how different Alfred was from everyone else. He had that round face and not quite solid body. His eyes were so bright and blue and yet they looked so unhappy. Alfred's voice was still high. His voice, more often than not, was a mumble, as if he was afraid of being heard. He was short and Ivan knew there were invisible scars littering that nearly flawless skin before him. "I… I don't know what to do."

Ivan seemed to be thinking about it. Yes, he could very well see the cause for concern. What if he was wrong and it really was just a twisted joke? What if Arthur really was just setting the boy up for failure and more pain in his life?

The thought of that made Ivan angry. He felt his hands curl into fists and his eyes narrowed a bit.

He did not want to believe that Arthur was bad. He wanted to hope for the best. He wanted Arthur to be good. He wanted Arthur to be Alfred's friend. He wanted someone else to help out and try to make Alfred happy and just _be there _for him for once in his painful life.

But Ivan could only hope.

He could do plenty if push came to shove though. He could kick some major ass if he wanted to. He was practically the size of a football player regardless, and wiping Arthur off the planet if he hurt Alfred would not be too difficult.

But he didn't want it to come to that. He wanted to avoid Alfred going through any more pain. The boy just didn't need any more agony. And if he was being honest, Ivan wasn't sure if Alfred could take any more pain before he simply snapped.

"I… I can talk to Arthur." Ivan nodded a bit. "I talk to Arthur first. Okay? I talk to him tomorrow and set things straight. I warn him that if he messes with you, that if he hurt you…"

Ivan simply trailed off. But Alfred knew well enough what he meant to say. He could tell by the sudden, angry glow in those bright eyes. Ivan could be calm, but he could also be violent and possessive if spurred to that point. He was fierce over what he cared about.

And a bit of him felt a little sad by that, because Ivan really was the only one who cared.

"I think… Once I talk to Arthur, you talk to him. Baby steps, yes? Start simple. Maybe Arthur really mean well after all…" Ivan let out a snort and wrung the blankets in his hands. "He better, or else."

Talk to Arthur, huh? Alfred had to admit, he wasn't exactly thrilled by that idea. He didn't really like talking to people. He preferred to be quiet and throw himself into other things, like books. Books never insulted him. Books eased the loneliness, if only for a little while.

He was paranoid over the whole ideal too, even if he didn't really want to admit it. He was downright terrified. He was scared of being hurt again. And that was what happened every time…

But… He supposed he had to give Arthur a chance.

Alfred sighed and heaved himself off the bed. Ivan looked up from the comforter that was being abused in his hands. Alfred was walking for the door, his feet barely audible on the flooring.

"Come on. I'll make us a snack." Alfred then vanished through the doorway. Ivan didn't move for a moment, able to hear Alfred traveling down the hallway. Finally, at Alfred's calling, Ivan picked himself off the bed and followed the boy downstairs.

The house was silent. Ivan saw no forms of life as he followed Alfred through the halls and downstairs into the kitchen. The stillness was enough to practically suffocate him. Ivan was used to the chaos of his own family; Alfred's home was a graveyard to him.

Ivan awkwardly stood behind the island and watched Alfred. The boy was digging through the freezer, not saying a word. He had that blank look on his face, that numb expression, and Ivan wasn't sure if wanted to know what Alfred was thinking about.

Finally, Ivan could not take the quiet anymore.

"Alfred, where family?"

Alfred paused. He kept his back to Ivan and then those shoulders slumped. He didn't look Ivan in the eye as he lugged a box of pizza rolls onto the counter.

"Don't worry about it." That was all Alfred said to that. He found a pan somewhere in one of the cabinets and began dumping the frozen food onto it. "Let's…just say I've long grown used to being alone in my own house."

Alfred's eyes glazed over with tears and it was then Ivan decided to keep his mouth shut.

Just like always.

* * *

Chapter 4: End.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ah oh gosh, sorry for the delay you guys! University stuff has been kicking my butt lately. Regardless, here is the next chapter for you! For those who pointed out a few errors in my last chapter, thank you, and I apologize for the mistakes. Writing late into the night can do that to you I suppose, haha. Anyway, thank you to all of you lovely reviewers! I can't believe this fic has already made it past one hundred reviews... It makes me so happy. Thank you all very much and I hope you enjoy the update!

Warnings: Only swearing this chapter.

* * *

Arthur had to admit it. He was more than just a tad nervous. He paused and took another moment to glance at his phone. It had not even been a whole minute since he checked last time. The teen swallowed as he stood at the base of the rear stairwell. It was lunch; he wasn't supposed to be on a main hallway right now. He could hear a bit of mumbling from the top of the stairs, from what he guessed was the class closest to the door upstairs.

Arthur slowly lowered himself to the steps of the stairs and took a seat upon them. He checked the time again for a moment. Then, sighing, he rubbed a palm over his forehead.

What did Ivan want to talk to him about? The Russian had approached him that morning, all alone. Arthur had just walked to his locker and he had to admit, he had no idea how Ivan found him. He did not know if the boy had followed him there. It was rather creepy.

Regardless, Ivan had just loomed over him and said they 'needed to have a long talk'. One fifteen p.m., at the bottom of the rear stairwell. Ivan said nothing else at first and began to walk away, but he had paused for a brief moment to steal a glance at Arthur. Just you and me, he had said. And then, before Arthur fully understood what was going on, the boy was gone from sight.

Why did Ivan want to talk to him? Talk to him alone, no less… It really was enough to make Arthur squirm a bit. He was a bit afraid of want Ivan wanted to do or say to him. At first he had debated on not showing up, but that was just cowardly. And Arthur Kirkland was not a coward.

"You actually came?" The voice made Arthur jump a good few inches. In a brief moment of panic the teen scrambled to his feet. Ivan had just turned the corner and was now standing only a few paces away. His arms – God, they were huge, Arthur noted – were folded over his chest. "Surprising."

"Who do you take me for?" Arthur scoffed a little. His hands were shaking a little bit though. Ivan suddenly moved closer to him. Arthur swallowed. Ivan was a lot taller than he initially thought. Arthur had to tip his head back a little to properly meet his gaze. "What is it you want?"

"To talk. That it." They were mere inches apart. Arthur held his breath for a second, not sure what the boy was going to do or say. "I want talk about Alfred."

Alfred? Arthur was genuinely surprised by that statement. What about Alfred? Maybe Alfred was interested after all.

Still, Arthur tried not to raise his hopes too high. After the little incident in his truck he wasn't quite sure if Alfred would be so willing. Arthur licked his lips for a moment and met Ivan's gaze. "What about Alfred?"

"You. You and Alfred. I not know what you up to, Arthur. I not know if you're trying to hurt him, or if you mean it." Ivan's eyes narrowed a bit. Arthur kept his mouth shut and listened, able to detect the larger boy was in no mood for games. "I not know what is up in your head. I not know if you want to be friend, or if you like Alfred. Either way, I do not mind. I like thought of Alfred having new friend or even boyfriend. It is possibility of joke that I do not like."

Arthur's cheeks burned. He sized up a bit then, standing almost on tiptoe in his boots. "What makes you think I like that kid?! You don't know anything—"

"I not stupid. You jealous of me, and I see how you look at Alfred." Ivan pursed his lips into a thin line. Arthur turned a bit more red and seemed to shrink now instead. "You like Alfred."

Arthur firmly kept his mouth shut. He didn't look up either, instead keeping his gaze glued on his black laces. He yelped when Ivan's hand suddenly found his shoulder. His head shot up and he blindly smacked the hand away before he even thought about it.

"Tell me. You like Alfred, yes?" Ivan's mouth muscles did not move at all. But his eyes seemed just a tad brighter all of a sudden. "I not tell anyone. Not even Alfred."

Arthur was not sure why he did it. He wasn't sure what caused him to open his mouth and let out the truth. All he knew was that some part of him opened up to Ivan for a split second, perhaps blindly. Perhaps it was because of how close Ivan was to Alfred. Perhaps it was because Arthur finally grew tired of fighting. He wasn't sure.

"Fine! I like Alfred, okay?!" Arthur's cheeks were a deep scarlet. The tips of his ears burned a dark, fleshy pink. He was embarrassed. "Damn it, now watch, you're going to tell everyone what I said, aren't you?"

"No. No, I not." Ivan drew his index finger over his chest, as in a small 'cross my heart' gesture. "I wanted to know. That all I want to know. I wanted to know if you simply playing a game with him or not. I wanted to know if you trying to hurt him."

"I wouldn't hurt Alfred." Arthur's face contorted into a scowl. "I've aided him plenty of times already, for crying out loud—"

"That not the point. You may have been setting him up, yes? Alfred not trust you because everyone hurt him. People even pretend to care and then they hurt Alfred. People like to hurt Alfred because he different. He smart and sure, maybe he a bit bigger than some people, but Alfred really nice. Alfred not deserve to be picked on. But he is. And therefore Alfred not trust much of anyone, especially popular boys like you. They only hurt him."

Ivan absently cracked his knuckles. Arthur paled a little at that.

The silence settled between them once more. Arthur watched Ivan silently as the large Russian began to pace back and forth across the tile.

"Why should I trust you?" Ivan at last asked. He stopped walking and stood before Arthur once more. He let out a frustrated grunt and dragged his fingers through his choppy, snowy hair. "I should not. I want to, I do, I want it to work…"

Ivan was momentarily still and mute. He looked as if he was in a different world, eyes suddenly unfocused. Arthur did not know what to say or do. But, after a split second, he didn't have to react. Ivan suddenly lashed out and snatched Arthur up by the hem of his shirt, yanking him partially off the steps.

Arthur gulped. His hands looked so tiny in comparison to Ivan's. He pressed the pads of his fingertips against Ivan's knuckles; the digits barely covered the pale, bony skin.

Ivan's face was suddenly close to his. It was too close for comfort. Arthur studied those eyes. They were narrowed and partially glazed. His thin lips curled into a snarl and his grip suddenly tightened.

"I will give you chance. Do not make me regret it." Ivan's voice was low. "Let me tell something. If betray this, if hurt Alfred… I will make you pay."

As if to prove his point, Ivan shook Arthur rather roughly. Arthur kept quiet, but his hands tightened over Ivan's almost instantly in response.

After a moment, Ivan let Arthur go. The soccer player noticeably scooted back and away from the bigger male. Ivan let him; he did not say a word for a long moment, or move at all. Finally, he let out a slow, almost aggravated sigh.

"I talk to Alfred. He stay on Wednesday to do work. Usually in back room in library or back computer lab. He be there today after school." Ivan began to back down. He inched away from Arthur, appearing to be headed for the hall from which he came. "Remember what I said."

And then he was gone.

Arthur stayed still for a long moment. He was still shaking a little. God, that kid was crazy. He'd definitely be lying if he said he had expected all of that.

Arthur shakily rose to his feet. He dug out his phone to check the time. There were still a few minutes of lunch left. Slowly, Arthur began to head back toward his table. His knees were trembling. He really did feel a bit shaken. He was not used to such treatment. He was not quite used to strangers being in his face and shaking him and raising their voice.

…Is _this _what Alfred constantly suffered through? It sounded like hell.

All eyes were on him as he approached the lunch table. Arthur tried his best to act like nothing had happened. He kept quiet and didn't really make eye contact with anyone.

The table was practically dead silent. Arthur could feel everyone staring at him, waiting for answers that Arthur did not wish to share. Finally, it was Francis who spoke.

"Your hands are shaking, eyebrows." He reached his own hand toward Arthur's and tried to touch it. Arthur was quick to snatch his own away and hide it under the table.

"Oh, come on, Arthur! We're simply curious, that is all!" Francis's voice had risen in volume slightly. He seemed rather excited. Ugh, but he was nosy, and Arthur hated that.

"Nothing happened." Arthur mumbled, not looking up from the tabletop.

"Ah, such a horrible liar! Come on now, why won't you just tell us the truth for once?"

"Because it's none of your damn _business_—"

"Or perhaps you've taken interest in a certain someone that you don't feel like discussing—"

"Piss _off _Francis!" Arthur's temper was clearly rising at this point. The arguing was getting on his nerves. His cheeks were turning red and the tips of his ears were flushed. "I said it doesn't concern you, and it doesn't! How about you keep your nose out of it for once?!"

The bell sounding overhead made the raging teen jump. Without much to any hesitation, Arthur snatched up his bag and hurried away from the table. His skin was still colored and his blood was boiling under his pale skin.

The table had gone quiet. Several glances were exchanged at this point. Majority of the table had left, but Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio remained.

"Arthur seems to be acting strange lately," Antonio said absently as he snagged his bag off the floor. "His temper seems to be growing worse…or is that just me?"

"Nah, it's not just you." Gilbert let out a snort. "He's had his little panties in a knot for days now. If you ask me it's getting really obnoxious really fast. He's almost eighteen, not four, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. And really, Francis, you have more patience than us. I'm sure Gilbert would have lashed back by now." Antonio frowned. "Why do you keep pushing him anyway? What do you want to know so badly? Who are you talking about so much?"

"Better yet, what is it that you know that we don't?" Gilbert asked, a scowl flashing across his face for a split second.

"Ah, I would not worry about all of that too much." Francis was still smiling. His gaze followed Arthur as the boy practically bolted up the stairs, before he vanished into a sea of kids. "I highly doubt it will be a secret for much longer."

Antonio and Gilbert blinked at those words. Gilbert's lips noticeably tightened up in what vaguely looked like a pout. Antonio just seemed puzzled. Francis grabbed his bag and stood up as well at this point.

"Perhaps it isn't my tale to tell. However… I can promise you this mysterious stranger our little leader has taken an interest in isn't at all who you would be expecting." Francis's smile widened a little. Without another word he walked off, leaving the remaining two confused boys behind.

* * *

Alfred was anxious, perhaps more so than usual. Ivan had left him alone during lunch for a while to, as he said, "have a word with Arthur". Even with Ivan being gone for only a short time, bad things had happened. He had gotten a smack delivered to the back of his skull and had a rather large chunk of _some _type of food dumped in his hair.

Ivan had seemed troubled when he returned. He seemed to be sucked into the world of his own brain, lips pursed and brow knitted and big fingers playing with the fabric of his scarf. He did not vocalize it, but the question hung in the air between them.

'Did I make the right choice?'

Alfred was not sure if he liked what Ivan proceeded to tell him. The large Russian said that he should give Arthur a chance. He should let Arthur in and he should slow down and listen to what Arthur had to say. Ivan told him that Arthur was curious, he meant well; he had been delivered a warning and surely knew his place.

At least, perhaps, they hoped so.

Alfred did not have the courage to look at Arthur during gym that day. Ivan had not given him any other information. Did Arthur intend on trying something soon, or would he wait? What would he even _try _to do? The constant questioning made Alfred nervous, and he didn't really like it.

The thought of Arthur attempting much to anything made him queasy. He kept to himself as usual during gym, his insides flopping with nerves as he tortured himself by replaying his conversation with Ivan over and over in his brain.

It was unknown to him that Arthur's mind was on nearly the same track. The teen tried using the current soccer match as a distraction, but that was easier said than done. He kept imagining Ivan's hand grabbing his shirt, Alfred's harsh words as he sat in the truck, and the distant teasing from his siblings.

God, what was he even getting himself into?

He thought about speaking to Alfred during gym, but decided against it. He simply had nothing to say, and even if he did, his tongue surely would not let him spit it out due to nerves. He allowed himself to watch Alfred though. He let himself study the boy's behavior. He watched as the teen simply stood on the sidelines. Alfred seemed to be interested in the way the grass crinkled under the weight settled in his shoes, and nothing more. He simply kept his head down.

It was as if that bubble had again sucked him out of the real world.

He decided to keep his mouth shut. He tried to forget about Alfred, even if it was for a little while. He would wait until class ended. He would have plenty of time to talk to the chubby teen then.

And so he did. Arthur waited at first. He kept his mind off of Alfred the best he could. He kept his eyes away despite the two of them changing at the same time in the locker room.

When the final bell rang, Alfred practically flew out of the locker room. Arthur noticed this out of the corner of his eye. Eventually the other boys left too, and Arthur stood alone with his rapidly pounding heart.

He spent a few minutes by himself in the empty room. He used a mirror to ensure his hair was not a complete disaster. He brushed out his clothes with the palm of his hands. After a few moments, he simply decided it was now or never, and began his journey to the library.

His footsteps matched the tune of his racing heart. Sweat broke out on the palms of his hands and underneath his bangs. He was beyond anxious and it was stupid in his eyes. He was just talking to Alfred, and that was all.

Yeah. That was all.

But try as he might, with each stride, with each step down the hall, and each brush past another teenager, Arthur felt more and more nervous. Perhaps it was a fear of the unknown. He did not know if Alfred was going to accept or reject his presence. Hell, he didn't even know if Alfred liked boys. Well… He supposed he could do nothing else other than give it a try.

The library was not a place Arthur often journeyed into. He always looked out of place, especially now as he stood in the lobby in tight clothes and a lost expression on his face.

Back room… That was what Ivan said, right? Arthur began to look. He walked through the library, up and down the aisles and shelves. And, after what felt like an eternity later, he saw a mop of blonde hair upon glancing into a room.

Alfred sat alone at a table that had four chairs. He had a few textbooks set out on the tabletop, along with a few books that looked to be about space. If Arthur craned his neck enough he could see pictures of the galaxy in the book Alfred had his head shoved into.

His heart was racing. Arthur gulped and licked his dry lips. He was unaccustomed to nervousness, especially when it came to something so simple. Talking to Alfred seemed so hard and he didn't understand why.

Alfred looked so preoccupied as he sat alone in that little room. He looked to be in his own tiny world. He kept his head down and his eyes open wide. His blue eyes looked shiny behind his large glasses. His eyelashes were thick and blonde and fluttered as he read. His lips were barely touching, and he seemed utterly fascinated with whatever he was reading. He looked intelligent. He looked so focused. And to Arthur, he looked beautiful.

Before he could change his mind, Arthur stepped into the little room and cleared his throat. His fingers began to play with the silver cross suspended from a chain about his neck. "H-Hey, Alfred."

The boy's head shot up. Those wonderful cerulean eyes focused in on the soccer player. Arthur watched them flood with panic and anxiety and something in his gut twisted in response.

Neither spoke for a moment. At last Arthur summoned what little bravery he had left and shuffled over to the table. Alfred was motionless, simply watching now. Finally, Arthur dared himself to sit down next to the teen. He did his best not to frown when Alfred inched his chair away in response.

"So, um, what is it that you're doing?" Arthur was stuttering. His palms were wet. His chest was aching. He reached over to touch the book Alfred was currently reading and his insides practically screamed in response. They were close, so close, and he was sure Alfred could hear his heart pounding against his ribs. "I didn't know you were into space stuff—"

"Well, it's not like you actually know anything about me." Alfred's hands tightened on the book and tried to pull it farther away from Arthur. It was all a defense mechanism, and Arthur knew it. "Why are you even here?"

It was a bit harsh, but Arthur supposed he couldn't blame him.

"I thought that Russian kid was going to talk to you about what happened?" Arthur asked, genuinely surprised that Alfred did not seem to realize what was going on.

"Don't call him that. He has a name, and it's Ivan, okay?" Alfred firmly kept his head down, however, not daring to look Arthur in the eye. "He didn't inform me that you would be coming. He didn't tell me that you would decide to pop up today. Why? Why are you here? There is nothing here that interests you. You're an athlete; I highly doubt books interest you. Secondly, don't try to act like I'm interesting. I know you're going to pull something like that and it isn't going to work. I'm not stupid—"

"I'm here because I _want _to be, Alfred." Arthur suddenly interjected, deciding to take the bull by the horns. "Do you really think I would go out of my way like this to meet and talk to someone I didn't want to interact with? Look. I realized you didn't trust me. I figured that out when I never heard back from you after giving you my number. And you know, I can't really say that I blame you. If I went through _half _of the shit you do, I wouldn't trust people either. But can you at least _try _to trust me, Alfred? Can you at least attempt to open up and give me a chance? That's all I want from you Alfred. I just want you to give me a chance."

Alfred was quiet at first. He kept his gaze focused on the text of the book, taking in the repetitive serif font, but not the actual words. Arthur's voice sounded far away, as if he was standing just outside the darkened tunnel Alfred was trapped in. He remembered when he first met Ivan. He remembered those worried eyes that looked down at him and the way those big strong hands brushed away dirt and dust and pain. He remembered a tiny part of him breaking down and letting the walls crumble to allow Ivan inside his heart. He let himself trust Ivan and perhaps the boy's friendship was the only thing left that was keeping him alive.

If Ivan's hands could drag his soul off the floor, what would happen if he let Arthur inside and his hands picked him up too? Maybe the tunnel wouldn't be so dark anymore. At least, that was what he hoped. But would Arthur even be that way? Would Arthur even carry him toward the light, or would he only drag him further into hell?

"I really don't trust you. Even with all you say, I don't… I can't trust you. You said it yourself. There's been a lot of crap. There's been a lot of pain and there have been a lot of people that have caused it. I can't just throw myself down and trust you," Alfred said quietly. His fingers began to play with his suspenders. He felt so small all of a sudden under Arthur's gaze. "You'll have to prove it to me, Arthur. I'm not as naïve as you think I am."

"I'm aware of that. I know you're not naïve and I know you aren't stupid. If anything, I'm probably the one that is stupid. I mean, come on. I fully expected you to call me back or for you to just blindly start being my friend. I guess it doesn't work that way with everyone. I thought it did but obviously not." Arthur gave a bit of a smile and laughed a little. He drew an absent pattern on the tabletop with his index finger. "But I guess I kinda know what you mean about not trusting people. I guess everyone has something they're scared of doing. Ya know, maybe for you it's making new friends or talking to people. It's whatever though, I mean, everyone is scared of something…"

Arthur trailed off. The thought of his brothers teasing him trickled back. He could remember the late nights of locking himself in his bathroom doing activities he was not proud of. He could remember the sudden identity crisis he recently ran into, the way his hormones and imagination and all else was rapidly trying to get away from him. Perhaps all the signs pointed toward him liking boys too, but Arthur was too scared to spit that out.

He was scared of something too.

Alfred was quiet. Arthur knew for sure the boy heard him, but Alfred simply did not answer. He didn't know why and he didn't really care. They were together and talking and that was a step. It was a crucial step. Arthur needed to succeed if he wanted to wiggle into Alfred's life, and more importantly, his heart.

"So… What kind of things do you like to do for fun, Alfred?" Arthur at last asked. He knew Alfred was surely not one to party or do dangerous things. He wasn't wild or social enough for that.

"Nothing." Alfred's answer was dry and void of emotion. Arthur frowned at that answer, at first not sure of how to react. But judging by the sudden taut state of Alfred's face and the almost hurt expression, Arthur knew he was not joking.

"Oh, come on! There has to be something you like to do. Well, besides reading, because that seems to be a given." Arthur nodded a bit and folded his arms atop of the table. "There isn't anything else that interests you? Hobbies or anything?"

"Arthur, my life is not like yours. No one talks to me and I don't talk to anyone else. Ivan has his own life. I keep my grades up and I work hard in school and I read and that's about all that I do." Alfred's voice was a bit smaller. "It's all I'm good at."

And there it was. Arthur blinked, not having really been expecting that side of Alfred to crawl out. He knew the boy was different, but he was not ready for Alfred to be so…well, negative. He knew Alfred was smart and he knew he didn't have friends… But he did not know this boy was so sad and hateful toward himself.

It really bothered Arthur.

"That's all there is to it. I'm nothing like you, Arthur. And that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you this entire time." Alfred let his gaze fall back onto the book before him. His tone suddenly turned bitterly sarcastic. "And what is it that _you _do?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure of what to say at first. If he said something wrong he was positive Alfred would react badly once more. He didn't want to upset the boy any further. And then, suddenly, it clicked.

"Well… Obviously, I play soccer. Forward position. I started in the fourth grade if I remember correctly." He nodded slightly and continued to draw patterns on the table. "My family is kind of a whirlwind so life at home is always interesting I guess. I'm okay at guitar, I'm trying to learn how to paint, and bike rides through the woods is the best thing since sliced bread. You know, things like that I guess. I go to parties occasionally and I have a rather big group of friends and a high status in this school but… I don't know. I feel out of place with my group… Like they aren't really my friends. You know?"

Alfred blinked at those words. He seemed suddenly more interested and his head perked up slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It's kinda dumb." Arthur was rambling a bit. He was getting out some pent up emotions, which was good; he didn't really talk about anything like this with his folks. He felt more comfortable now, more open to talk, more accepted around Alfred. "I mean they just… They kinda all have their inside jokes and stuff and I'm just kinda _there. _A lot of times I feel like they just associate with me to get popular, or that I stupidly accepted them just to have friends. I don't really know how to explain it. I just know that it's all really dumb and I hate it. Most of the time I just want to sock Francis in his face anyway."

"You still get treated like that, even with who you are?"

"I guess. I mean, I probably set myself up. I just blindly picked some people without getting to know them very well. I suppose I'm regretting it now because they aren't really my friends. They're just using me. That's what it feels like to me anyway." Arthur sighed a bit. "I don't know. I just got around to thinking about all of this stuff lately and it just… Well, it hit me that maybe I don't need to try to find big fish to be friends with, you know? Maybe I could pick something smaller. Maybe I overlooked the smaller fish, when it was the smaller fish I should have been looking for the entire time, ya know?"

"That's a bit of a dumb analogy." Much to Arthur's surprise, Alfred's lips quirked in the tiniest of smiles. "I didn't think someone like you knew what that felt like. Everyone loves you, so…"

"Yeah, but when you're surrounded by people that are practically clinging onto you, it's a lot harder to find real friends I guess." Arthur sighed again and ran a hand through his bangs. "I suppose the point I'm trying to make here is that you _can _trust me, Alfred. I know what you're going through. Even if I haven't been dealt a hand as bad as yours… I'm kind of in the same boat. I won't make fun of you for who you are or what you're going through, because I know it hurts. I know what it feels like to be ignored or feel isolated and it really sucks. I know you may not trust me right now but… Hey, I'll be here, okay?"

Alfred nodded. Arthur offered him an almost cheeky smile and leaned back into his chair for a moment. Then, without much warning, he stood up, grabbing his bag.

"I'll leave you to your work now, though. Ivan said you're a busy guy. But… You know, I don't mean to sound like a total cheese, but I think this was actually pretty nice. You listen well, Alfred. It was great talking to you and I hope we can do it again sometime." Arthur offered him a smile. "Like I said. I'll be here whenever you need me or just want to talk."

Alfred didn't speak or move. Arthur shifted the bag around on his back and made his way for the door. Alfred was not sure of how he felt or what he was thinking as this occurred. He felt suddenly very lonely as he watched Arthur leave, but at the same time, a tiny bit of him felt comforted. Accepted. A part of him wanted Arthur to come back and another wanted him gone. He didn't know what to think or how to feel. All he knew was that maybe… Just maybe… Arthur wasn't so bad.

* * *

Chapter 5: End.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry this is late! I must say though, receiving so many wonderful reviews and encouraging words over on Tumblr really made me want to work harder. Now, if only daily things had not gotten in my way... This chapter was a tad hard for me to write as well. However, as I said, I greatly appreciate the encouragement, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Also, the warnings will no longer be posted due to constantly being the same. Enjoy!

* * *

The famous Arthur Kirkland sought interest in him. Surely he was dreaming. This was not how things were supposed to work. People like Arthur were not supposed to be seen with people like him, let alone associate with his kind. It just didn't make sense. He had nothing to offer Arthur. He was not worth Arthur's time or effort. So why did the boy keep trying so hard?

Alfred heaved a sigh as he stood before the full-length mirror in his bedroom. He stepped in little half-circles in front of the glass, inspecting his reflection. He squeezed at his skin and bit his lip. Great. He both looked and felt bigger. Just what he needed was to gain more weight, but that fact did not really surprise him.

"Get away from mirror, Alfred." Ivan's voice came from nearby the teen's desk. The source was Alfred's laptop. The blonde sighed a second time, rounded shoulders sagging, as he approached the wooden structure. He grabbed hold of the laptop and took a seat on the plush bed instead. "You been quiet, I know you been over there."

Alfred didn't say anything at first. He simply studied the screen, staring at the chat program he had open, with Ivan as his only contact. They had started a voice chat, which Alfred was not used to at all. Regardless, Ivan had said he wanted to talk to Alfred, so the teen agreed to the little chat session.

"I can't really help it," Alfred mumbled in response, letting his fingers trace the keys of the keyboard. The mirror was there after all, mocking him. He bit his lip roughly. "Why would Arthur even try to be interested?"

On the other side of the computer, Ivan sat quietly at his own desk. Ivan had told Alfred that he was the one to disclose Alfred's studying location. However, he was a man of his word, and therefore did not tell Alfred that Arthur indeed had a crush on him. Keeping such a big thing a secret was brutal. Ivan wished he could tell, he really wanted to, but he couldn't. It was such big news, wonderful even, that someone was _that _interested in Alfred… But would Alfred even believe him if Ivan did tell? He really doubted it.

"Maybe Arthur really mean it," Ivan said into the microphone, leaning forward in his chair. "Maybe he really want to be in life."

"Yeah, but why? I know you mentioned before he might like me, or want to be friends, or something, but _why_? Why would Arthur Kirkland seek interest in me of all people? Let's face it. I'm unpopular, I'm fat, I'm ugly, and I'm a nerd, Ivan. Arthur is just… He's _the _Arthur! He's fit, he's popular, he's wealthy, and come on, girls practically drool buckets over him! He could have anyone he wanted, whether it be a friend or a date. There should be no reason that he would even consider me to be an option."

His eyes were watering. Alfred released a shaky breath and let the back of his hand wipe his eyes before the tears could fall. Ivan's end remained briefly quiet. After a moment of listening to Alfred's quaking breaths, he spoke softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Alfred sniffed a bit. Oh, who was he kidding? He couldn't even remember the last time he felt relatively fine. He was always miserable. "It just doesn't make any sense…"

"Lot of things do not, Alfred." Ivan answered almost instantly.

"I still fail to see how Arthur could possibly like me. Friends, maybe. But romantic interest?" A bitter type of laugh left Alfred's lips. "The more I think about it, the crazier it sounds. There's no way in hell that Arthur Kirkland likes boys. I mean, come on, you know what he looks like… Not to mention that girls are always hanging right off of him."

"But never know, Alfred. Maybe Arthur keep it a secret." Ivan shifted around in his desk chair. "You know, like girl not telling that she like another girl."

"I know what you meant…" Alfred sighed a bit. "But… Ugh. I don't know. It just doesn't make any sense. All of this is just one big confusing mess. I guess if Arthur wants to proceed any further and goes to you asking about it, tell him that he can try to keep talking if he feels like it. I'm sure he'll lose interest soon anyway."

"I do not know, Alfred. If Arthur work this hard to make this far, maybe not want to just 'lose interest'. I think need to give Arthur more chance."

"That's what you keep telling me… I know I should give him more time to prove himself and everything, but I mean… God, Ivan, it's probably just going to wind up being a waste of time. I hope it isn't, but you know how things like that are when it comes to me! I'm unlucky and you know it."

"Just try, Alfred." Ivan sighed softly. "Maybe it be worth it."

"We'll see I guess." Alfred dragged chubby fingers through his bangs. "I'm going to let you go now though. I need a shower and then need to finish up some work."

"Okay." Ivan nodded despite the fact he knew Alfred could not see him. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Later, big guy."

With that, Alfred disconnected the voice chat. Ivan watched the screen as the boy switched to an offline status, and then proceeded to groan. He signed off himself and then leaned back in his chair, rubbing huge square palms across the bridge of his forehead.

Keeping secrets really sucked. He had learned that a long time ago, with both his sisters telling him secrets behind the other's back. Ivan really just wished he could tell Alfred everything. But, unfortunately, he couldn't.

Meanwhile, Alfred had just clambered out of the shower. He dragged the towel over his hair, attempting to dry it. Even wet, that same stupid cowlick stood up, flopped sideways. He wished he could just cut it off, but then it would look worse…

Alfred padded down the hall and back into his room, practically leaping into his pajamas. The less he had to look at himself the better. Cleaning his huge glasses with the hem of his shirt, Alfred absently took a seat upon the bed once more. Combing his fingers through his wet bangs, he sprawled out on his back upon the crisp sheets. He stared up at the ceiling at first, studying the posters littering the space of his room.

His thoughts kept going back to Arthur. He just could not wrap his mind around it, no matter how hard he tried.

He closed his eyes. He attempted to relax, and let his mind wander a bit. He let his brain focus a bit on Arthur, and then simply allowed loose associations to take their course.

What if Arthur really did like boys? And liked _him_ no less? It still seemed impossible, but Ivan said to at least think about it. So he tried. He kept his eyes closed and attempted to picture Arthur with a boy. All he saw were girls hanging all over the soccer player instead.

He tried to imagine Arthur with himself. It took a long while, but Alfred finally managed to visualize it. He imagined Arthur's hand trying to grab hold of his, skin almost too soft to belong to a man. Arthur suddenly pulled roughly at his hand, bridging the gap between them. Arthur's breath was hot against Alfred's flesh. Arthur's hands fisted into Alfred's collar, and that smug smirk danced across those lips.

"I'm going to make you mine," Arthur practically purred in his face, attempting to move closer—

Alfred's eyes shot open. His pale skin flooded with color as blood boiled under the padded flesh of his cheeks. Oh, God, he was sick.

Alfred briefly buried his face into his palms, embarrassed he had even thought of such a thing. After a moment he lowered his hands and viewed the ceiling again.

Ha… There was nothing even close to normal about all that. Nothing about Arthur possibly liking him made the slightest _bit _of sense.

Even if Arthur did like him, for whatever reason, surely it was impossible for things to take a similar course like that of his stupid daydream. He wasn't hot. He wasn't even cute. He had no sex appeal. Like Arthur would really want to make out with him like he was some sort of sex god.

Alfred's face twitched a bit. A wave of sadness suddenly struck him. He was truly pathetic. A junior in high school and he had yet to be in a relationship. No first date. No hand holding. He had yet to have his first kiss.

Alfred rolled onto his side, staring at the wall, and let a hand touch his lips. He had never really thought that hard about the whole 'love' or 'dating' thing before. Maybe it was because puberty had yet to hit him full force. Maybe that was why subjects like romance never really crossed his mind. But now that he actually sat around and _thought _about it… It really hurt. It hurt to think about how behind he was in the romance department compared to his peers. It hurt to know that no one wanted to give him a chance. If no one wanted to give him the time of day, why would someone like Arthur Kirkland want to? It was just a joke. It had to be.

Alfred bit his lip and buried his face into the fabric of his pillowcase. His glasses became slightly askew and a shuddering breath passed from his lips.

He really wished he could be someone else.

* * *

Arthur was restless. Sleep had tried to avoid him one more night. He had stayed motionless in bed for hours, Alfred's face swimming in his brain. The boy's voice drifted through his eardrums, repeating 'I don't trust you' softly, almost mockingly. Those beautiful blue eyes were watery, scared, hurt—

"Keep trying, Kirkland, and maybe he'll loosen up a bit."

That was what Arthur had told himself as he tried fixing his unkempt hair before his bathroom mirror that morning. And that was all he could do, after all. Just keep trying…

He parked his truck in the senior lot that morning and wandered inside. His stomach demanded breakfast, and badly. Arthur found Francis and Antonio to be seated at their usual table; Gilbert wasn't present. Knowing the usual pattern, he probably overslept and was running late…

Arthur approached the table and set down his tray before he shed his backpack. He felt a sudden clench in his stomach when Antonio and Francis instantly stopped talking upon his arrival. The both of them looked up at him, eyes unimpressed, lips pursed, and for a split second, Arthur felt very afraid.

"What? What's with the looks?" Arthur asked, trying to keep the hesitation out of his voice. He tried not to sound nervous, but he was.

"Nothing, eyebrows. We're just curious if you're going to act as touchy as you have all the other days this week." Francis's voice was almost too calm, and it made Arthur a bit peeved. He hated that tone. He wasn't stupid; why talk to him like he was? "We're simply wondering if a certain someone has finally pulled his panties out of his rear end."

Arthur did his best to bite his tongue. His freckled cheeks suddenly burned a deep crimson, stemming from anger and embarrassment. Regardless he placed himself at the table and stabbed into his food, trying to ignore the insult that had been hurled at him.

Arthur quietly ate his breakfast, not speaking to the other two. And, not much to his surprise, neither of the other two boys tried to speak to him either. Francis and Antonio began to carry on their own conversation, swiveled in their seats so that Arthur was out of their sight. They simply acted like Arthur did not exist.

Even if he did not vocalize it, it really bothered Arthur. Maybe his simple inklings were right to begin with. Maybe he really didn't belong on this group. But in that brief moment, with doubts, pessimistic thoughts, and negative feelings running through him, Arthur had a trickle of bravery leak into him. Why should he sit around and waste his time with people that he had no connection with at all anymore? Why should he put himself in situations that offered him no comfort, only more negativity? He had enough of that in his life already; he did not need any more of it.

Arthur's emerald eyes did a quick scan of the cafeteria. He spotted Alfred and Ivan sitting not too far away. The two of them seemed to be quietly discussing something over breakfast, although it was obvious Ivan was doing most of the talking.

Arthur let his fingers roughly fidget with the fork in his hand. His brain and his heart said two completely different things. He did not know what to do at first, what to believe, or anything else. But, that same thought of how he did not belong where he currently was ran through his mind once more, and Arthur made up his mind.

Without a word to Francis or Antonio, Arthur stood up from his seat. He grabbed his bag with one hand and slung it over his shoulder, before he picked up his tray, and simply walked off from the table. He felt hypersensitive, practically able to hear Antonio and Francis's confused conversation. He could hear the whispers as he approached Alfred and Ivan, the student body not comprehending, and probably did not _want _to understand. It was not normal. And perhaps that was why Arthur felt a little tingle of excitement over the whole ordeal.

Before he even reached the new table, both of the outcasts had stopped talking and were staring at him. It felt as if a hole was going to form through his guts at any second with how heavy the glances were. Regardless, Arthur approached anyway. He stood at the end of the table, offered a grin to the two confused boys, and spoke his desires.

"Do you guys mind if I sit over here with you?"

At first, the two boys just stared at him as if he had gone insane. Well, perhaps he had. Arthur remained standing at the end of the table for a moment, able to hear the faint whispering of the other students and the stares that were digging into his skin. Alfred and Ivan at last moved a bit, but only to glance at each other. For a moment neither of them seemed to understand, before at last, Alfred looked up and spoke.

"What's the catch?" His voice was wavering a bit, and he seemed very uncertain about Arthur's sudden decision. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." Arthur offered a smile, although this tug of muscle seemed a bit sadder. "Really. I just want to switch tables."

Alfred looked like he was going to say something else, but Ivan quickly cut him off, knowing Alfred would try to wiggle out of the opportunity of more interaction. Ivan began nodding, and motioned to the seat next to Alfred. "Go ahead."

Upon receiving the desired feedback, Arthur lowered himself into one of the seats. Ivan and Alfred were just eyeballing him, faces confused and puzzled and curious and yet neither seemed to want to ask for a reason _why._

Arthur didn't really speak or make any eye contact. He just kept his head down at first and ate his breakfast. He felt hypersensitive and a bit uncomfortable. This was not the social norm. It felt weird suddenly switching tables like this. He could feel everyone staring at him, their eyes boring into his back. Regardless, despite it being an unusual change, he felt rather proud of himself for making such a decision. He had made a choice in an attempt to benefit himself. He wasn't trying to follow the crowd and their choices like a blind sheep anymore. He was trying to figure things out on his own. He was starting to break free of his chains. He was starting to wiggle free of the web he had cast himself into. He was beginning to leave behind those he did not fully see a future with, those who he felt inferior to, used by, uncomfortable with. And even though he, the popular Arthur Kirkland, had moved to a table with nobodies and outcasts, he felt a little more comfortable. It was an internal type of comfort, stemming from the thought that he knew. He knew Alfred and Ivan would not treat him like his trio had. And that was the greatest comfort of all.

Receiving the opportunity to get a bit closer to Alfred did not sound too bad either.

Finally, Alfred broke the silence.

"Why did you suddenly change your mind?" he asked, at last lifting his head to study Arthur. The soccer player blinked, glancing up at the abrupt inquiry. "Why did you suddenly want to sit with us?"

Arthur noticeably hesitated. He wasn't sure how to answer that question. After all, the fact he had even convinced himself to switch tables in the first place was surprising enough to himself. But, the thought of telling the two boys about all of that made him a bit uncomfortable. Sure, he had told Alfred a bit about his little friend problems already, but to let the two of them know it was bothering him _this _much… It made Arthur feel a little weak.

"It's…kinda complicated, I guess." Arthur answered slowly, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with one palm. "I guess you could just say I'm trying to figure out some things on my own."

The two outcasts blinked at that answer. Alfred remained quiet, studying Arthur's face. The soccer player appeared more than just a bit uncomfortable by the topic. Alfred could understand though. There were plenty of things that made him uneasy when they popped up in a conversation that made him uneasy as well.

"I guess that's just one perk to being popular," Arthur said, obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit, although the smile that crept onto his lips seemed rather forced. Alfred didn't know how to react for a moment. "What can you do?"

Alfred shifted around in his chair a bit to look in the direction of the other group. Francis and Antonio occasionally flicked their gazes in the direction of the trio, murmuring _something. _Although Alfred could not understand what they were saying, or see their lips clearly enough to read them, he could by the expressions that the two boys were not pleased.

Still, it left Alfred curious. He could easily recall what Arthur told him in the library. Did things finally hit their peak? Did Arthur get into some sort of squabble with the others? Had they begun to toss him out of the group? Or had Arthur finally reached his limit and decided to take matters into his own hands?

Alfred wasn't sure, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask. If Arthur wanted him to know, he would tell him. Still… He couldn't help but wonder.

Ivan, not to Alfred's surprise, tried to stir up conversation among the little group. It started with a very simple questioning toward Arthur. It was a basic inquiry about Arthur's classes, and things suddenly picked up. The atmosphere grew a bit better. Words thrummed in the little odd trio. And for a moment, they all forgot where they were as a small thread of comfort connected all of them together.

"I mean, I'm not dumb or anything, but I just don't think I could keep up with how fast some of those more advanced classes go, you know what I mean? Too fast-paced for me. I don't think my attention span is really big enough for it." Arthur started laughing. "I guess I could do it but I suppose I just don't know how to push myself into it. School and hobbies I enjoy are two different things…"

Ivan nodded absently. Arthur smiled down at the table for a second, seeming to be thinking. This really wasn't so bad. Even if he didn't know much to anything about these two, it felt more…_right. _He didn't really know how to explain it. He was guarded on either side by a stranger, and yet, these strangers felt more welcoming and family-like than the trio he had spent more time with. If anything, it seemed like the boys he had already spent so much time with were the strangers…and not the two he had just met only a few days prior. This setting felt more comfortable, more welcoming, and, well, maybe this was what friendship felt like. To feel relaxed and not be ignored. Yeah. This was much better.

The two outcasts saw a slightly different perspective. Ivan welcomed Arthur, though only to a certain extent. While he was silently eager at Arthur's sudden approach, it still made him a tad queasy deep in his stomach. He knew Arthur's secret, and having to keep it confidential was almost painful. It almost hurt to watch the pair interact, because he knew what Arthur wanted. He knew having the truth revealed could have the potential to make Alfred happy, so much _happier_, but he could not be the one to tell it. He had to wait for Arthur to make his move. Yet, the thought that Arthur's advances could all be one big joke still lingered in the back of his brain. Ivan could not forget about the potential risk. It was still there, looming, and even though he wished it was impossible, there was still a chance that it _could _happen, that it _was _possible. Yet… He had to give Arthur time. Arthur had gotten his warning, and he had best take it seriously. There was nothing more that Ivan could do now except give the soccer player a chance, and let time take its course.

Alfred still was a bit skittish about Arthur's advances. He understood what Ivan meant by saying he needed to give Arthur a chance, but that didn't offer him too much comfort. He was used to the betrayal, he was used to being abused by his peers, and he was used to the loneliness. The potential for change sounded nice in his mind, but at the same time, it sounded downright terrifying. Alfred was not quite sure what to think. He felt many conflicting feelings regarding the whole issue, but he supposed there was only so much he could do. It was best not to fight back. He'd only push Arthur away with that and, simply put, he couldn't say he wanted Arthur to leave just yet. He wanted to see what the teen was up to, he wanted to know his potential. He didn't want Arthur to leave his life when he had just entered it. It was possible Arthur could be his new hope, his little beacon of light in the inky darkness, but he couldn't know for sure unless he gave Arthur a chance.

They talked for a little while, the three of them, at their table. Arthur had decided to turn the school subject around and ask Alfred at some point. They all shared what classes they had, and Arthur seemed rather impressed by what classes Alfred was enrolled in at the time being.

"I think it's impressive," Arthur had said, and Alfred wasn't sure at first if he really meant it or if he was simply flattering him. "I sure wouldn't be able to handle it."

They talked about their lives outside of school. Ivan mentioned something about his parents and his sisters. It was difficult for Arthur to understand him due to Ivan's somewhat weak English, but he managed to do alright. After all, Arthur did have a tad bit of experience understanding accents. His father's and oldest brother's accents were so thick it took Arthur ages to become accustomed to the both of them.

Alfred didn't really seem too open to talk about his home life. Arthur decided not to pry. Alfred did not mention anything about his family or hobbies or anything else. He simply mentioned the bare basics, and Arthur simply went with it. Of course, he couldn't expect Alfred to be so open and willing to talk about things like that just yet. They were still strangers, just now getting to know each other, and he had to take it one step at a time.

That thought made his heart squeeze a bit. Ah, it was a bit of discomfort to remember that they were still at the bottom step of the ladder. He still had so much to learn about Alfred. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn Alfred inside and out, and more. He wanted to pick things up so that they could actually talk comfortably, not just about boring topics like school and hobbies. He wanted Alfred to be at ease around him, trust him, open up to him. Closer than what they currently were. He wanted to take a higher step on that ladder.

The knowledge of knowing he had a crush on Alfred washed over him once more. Ah, it was a painful reminder of how close and yet how far he was from what he wanted. He wanted Alfred. Oh how he wanted that boy, and quitting before he got what he wanted was not an option.

Regardless, he knew he had to be careful. He had to be cautious of where he stepped, or he could very well miss the next notch on the ladder. And if he missed, it could very well be a painful tumble to the ground. He had to take things slow, even if he did not want to. Patience. He had to have patience…

The disgustingly loud noise of the bell clanging overhead jostled Arthur back into the real world. His emerald eyes came back into focus and he looked up to see Ivan and Alfred making moves to grab their belongings. Arthur stayed still for a moment, not quite sure if he should try to pack up and leave at the exact same time as them, or just wait a few minutes. In the end he decided to go ahead and get up as well, snagging his bag with one palm and shrugging it on before grabbing his tray.

"I see you later." Ivan offered a nod to Alfred, and then focused his gaze upon Arthur. The soccer player hesitated for a split second. Their eyes met, a clash of cool colors, and for a split second, the air between the two grew stale and tense and heavy. Finally, Ivan's thin lips creased in a tiny grin. "Nice talk, Arthur."

Arthur released a slow, shaky breath after the male began to walk away. He had not realized he had been holding the air in his lungs at first. Ivan still made him more than slightly nervous after their little encounter on the stairwell.

The soccer player then focused his attention on Alfred instead. The chubby teenager had shrugged his arms into his own backpack and was starting to inch away in search of a trashcan. Arthur decided to mutely follow. The walk was only a few seconds, but in the silence between them, it felt like minutes to Arthur. He wanted to say something else, to try to make more conversation, but what could he say? He needed to come up with something though. He needed to create more options to interact with Alfred. Simple talking was a good start, because it allowed them to be near each other without it being too awkward. It was a time to get to know each other better too, and that was definitely something Arthur needed. He needed to get to know Alfred more, or, better yet, for Alfred to get to know _him._

"Hey, Alfred?" Arthur at last spoke as he dumped the cheap tray into the garbage can. Alfred blinked, and turned a bit to get a proper look at Arthur's face. Alfred's hand had grabbed hold of the strap of his backpack, knuckles turning white from his grip, and anxiety was obvious by how he was suddenly trembling. "Can I ask you something?"

"You did already, but go ahead…" Alfred mumbled, now lowering his gaze a bit.

Ugh, Arthur felt sick. Alfred was cute. He was so short and his voice had yet to deepen and it just made Arthur's insides flutter. He licked his dry lips and eyeballed the ceiling for a moment. He couldn't believe what he was about to ask. He couldn't believe he was letting himself do this, to vocalize such a thing, to even dare ask, but he needed to do something. Simple choppy conversations would not suffice. He needed stronger interaction. With Ivan always at Alfred's side, things would take ages to move the way Arthur wanted them to.

"I was just… Um…" Oh, God. Arthur swallowed again, with difficulty this time. Here came the nerves, and Arthur could not say he was too excited about it. The sweaty palms began and his fingers trembled, his tongue feeling twisted and heavy in his mouth. It was suddenly hard to breathe, let alone speak. Finally, Arthur spit it out. "I was just wondering if you're free Saturday night to hang out or something."

Alfred's eyes noticeably widened at that question. His heart raced a bit. Was this some sick gimmick? Surely Arthur was just pulling his leg, right? Did the Arthur Kirkland just…ask him out on a date? Or was it just to form a friendship on more solid ground? Alfred did not know the reason, but Arthur's simple question was enough to blow him away. He did not know what to say at first, and for a long moment, the pair just stared at each other. Finally Alfred's cheeks darkened a bit to match Arthur's, and he awkwardly ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"T-Talk to me in gym about it, okay? We'll figure something out." Alfred nodded a little bit and then let his gaze match Arthur's. "I-I'm not saying no, we just need to figure it out first."

Before Arthur had the chance to say a word, Alfred nodded his head again, only a little more forcefully this time. "I-I have to go, okay? I'll see you later."

And in a flash, Alfred was gone.

Arthur released a shaky breath from the depths of his lungs. He was still shaking, almost violently now. Ah… Alfred was willing. Alfred said they could work it out. Alfred basically said that they could hang out.

Arthur's face broke out into a wide smile. He felt suddenly relieved, and lighter, and so much happier than he had been in days. A thousand thoughts ran through his brain in one split second. Where would they go? What would they do? Would it be awkward? But still, Alfred was giving him a chance.

He turned to head for class. He did not even make a full spin on his heel when he ran into something, or, rather, someone. Arthur scrambled back a bit in confusion and panic, and when he finally managed to focus into the real world, he found Francis standing before him.

"How wonderful for you to finish up." His arms crossed and he did not look pleased. "We need to talk."

* * *

Chapter 6: End.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I've had a lot of my plate recently. This chapter was also difficult to write, since I hit a case of writer's block at some point. I managed to plow through it though, and, well, here's your update! Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

_Damn_ it.

Arthur gulped anxiously and took a few quick steps backwards as soon as the situation dawned upon him. Francis, however, only seemed to follow him, edging closer a few paces. Most of the students had filed out of the cafeteria by now and were heading upstairs. The sound of Arthur's black boots hitting the linoleum floor seemed to almost echo in the eerie stillness.

How much had Francis heard? How long had Francis been standing there, watching, listening, waiting? The simple thought of it all really unnerved Arthur. It made him beyond uncomfortable. Almost defensively now, he crossed his arms, stumbling backwards a bit further. Francis followed him mutely. It was a type of cat and mouse, and Arthur kept the game up until he smacked against one of the lunch tables in his blind scramble. His legs halted. Arthur's right hand reached around behind him, resting atop of the cafeteria table, as if to support himself. Francis had positioned himself before Arthur now, and there appeared to be no escape. Arthur swallowed, fingers trying to create some form of traction upon the table, but he did not succeed. He simply stood there, swallowing a little as Francis caged him in against the ugly school lunch table.

Things were still for a moment, before Francis's right hand suddenly shot out, shackling about Arthur's thin wrist. The teen let out an unattractive squawk, his fingers instantly curling about Francis's own in an attempt to pry them off.

"Listen to me. Just this once, Arthur, _listen_ to me." Francis's voice was tense. Arthur winced as the grip upon his bony wrist suddenly tightened, enough to hurt at this point. The atmosphere about them suddenly became heavy and tense. The air about Arthur suddenly felt tight, compressing against him, sucking the very life out of him, and the very oxygen straight out of his lungs. Arthur's emerald eyes peeled open a little wider and an audible gulp emitted from the depths of his throat. Francis's own eyes narrowed a little, and for a split second, Arthur could detect overwhelming pain within them. "What _happened_, Arthur?"

The soccer player paused for a moment, not seeming to comprehend the question thrown at him at first. Francis's thin fingers twitched about his wrist, his eyes narrowing slightly. Arthur swallowed down the hard lump in his throat the best he could, finding himself unable to meet Francis's gaze for a moment. He seemed to understand now, at least the very basics of what Francis was referring to. His green eyes scanned the dirty floor before he finally challenged himself to look the other male in the eyes.

"Why should it matter to you?" Arthur snapped, roughly jerking his arm. He managed to free his limb from Francis's grip, and he began to absently massage his wrist with his remaining fingers. The atmosphere about them seemed to grow a little heavier now, weighing down the two of them. Arthur swallowed once more, eyes darting every which way at first, before he finally settled for eye contact. In that moment, Arthur's bright eyes clashed against Francis's, and he bared his teeth. "It seems to me that all of this has been nothing more than a game to you and the others this entire time."

"What are you _talking_ about?!" Francis's vocal volume rose now. He stepped forward a bit, his index finger now meeting the solid form of Arthur's chest. Their heights matched perfectly as Francis suddenly closed the gap between them, jabbing the tip of his finger into the other teen's chest cavity. "If anything, it's more of a game to you! If I remember correctly, I was the one who accepted you into our group in the first place!"

"Is that what you call it?! Francis, it's not a group! It never has been!" Arthur's own speech was growing louder. "Maybe it's been a group to you and Antonio and Gilbert, but it never has been to me!"

"If it wasn't a group, then what do you call it?! Arthur, we accepted you without thinking about it! We do our best to get along with you! We invited you, we included you—"

"Even if you did, it wasn't _right_! It never felt right! Even if you did try to include me, you never truly did. It was always you and Gilbert and Antonio making your own little special trio, and I was just sucked into the middle of all of it! I was just standing there on the sidelines, watching, not truly being up to snuff with the rest of you! I was just some little ornament to you guys. Some little decoration you could hang on the outside of your trio to make you look a little better. Am I right?"

"What do you mean 'make us look better'?! Without us initially letting you join our group, Arthur, you would be _nowhere_! Even if you are a soccer star, that can only get you so far! We helped boost you up, and you know it!"

"_Bullshit_." Arthur bared his white teeth at the French boy now. Oh, he was furious. All the anger now came spilling out of him and his hands shook violently at his sides, curled into tight fists. "The only thing you guys have done to me is drag me down. There was no point of me trying to force myself to stay in your shady little group to begin with. All you have done is piss me off and give me negative vibes and I'm sick of it!"

"So that's the reason behind all this? The reason you've decided to simply abandon the people that have been with you the longest, is simply because you're angry? That we, somehow, 'drag you down'? I've already told you that we've been benefiting you this entire time—"

"I never fit in with you in the first place! What part of that don't you understand, Francis?! We're not the same! You and the others, when compared to me, we're _nothing_ alike! Nothing! This so called friendship has been pointless! We don't get along, we have nothing in common, and it seems to me that all I've been doing is dragging behind you and trying to fit in, but nothing works! It's not meant to be, okay, and I'm sick of pretending that it is!"

"So, those two boys, you somehow have something in common with _them_?" Francis's volume had dropped to nearly a whisper. "Like what, pray tell? What is it that they have that we don't, Arthur? They've done nothing to help you. It seems to me that they don't even want your friendship. But, mind you, I'm not an idiot. You aren't ditching us to simply become friends with them. No, not at all. You don't even want to be friends with them, do you? You could care less about that Russian boy. Your interest is Alfred. It's nothing but Alfred. You're ditching everything you've known just to try to win him over.

"I've known. I've known for a while now. You like him, you practically adore him, and you know, to put it simply, nothing about him. What draws you to him, Arthur? Are you simply that blind? To just blindly sprint after someone who you know nothing about, after someone who seems to be simply skittish around you and not much else?"

Arthur grit his teeth. His green eyes practically pulsed in anger, and after a moment, his teeth started grinding together. Oh, he was so angry. Then Francis knew. He knew everything. Francis knew all about his stupid little crush and all about how he wanted to win Alfred over, by using practically any means. But before he had the chance to say a word, Francis continued.

"I heard. I heard you ask that boy out. You're crazy about him, are you not?" The anger was now slowly leaving Francis's voice. A different kind of tone settled in now. Sadness? Jealousy? Arthur wasn't sure, but he didn't really like it. "Arthur. Why do you like him?"

It was then Arthur realized it. Francis's eyes suddenly looked saddened, entirely hollowed out with some sort of understanding. Francis was not really angry at him for the ordeal. No, Francis was afraid. He was scared, and he was saddened. And it was just then that Arthur was beginning to realize all of it.

"He has done absolutely nothing for you Arthur. He has even been trying to avoid you for how long now?" Francis's brows drew in and his lips practically quivered. "Why? Why do you like him?"

Arthur realized that he had broken Francis's heart.

"Why?!" Francis's shaking hands latched onto Arthur's shirt collar. His eyes were watering, breathing shaking. "I've always loved you! I did so much for you, I tried so hard, and you never, not once, tried to pay me back! You never loved me back! Why not?! Why did you not even give me a chance, Arthur, when I did so much? And yet here you are, falling for someone who has done nothing for you, and won't even let you do a thing?!"

And it was then, in the stillness of the abandoned cafeteria, that Francis's hands released Arthur's shirt. And for the first time in his life, Arthur saw Francis cry.

* * *

Arthur felt horrible. Sure, blowing off Francis's attempts of affection was one thing… But hearing him pour his heart out and then start crying before his very eyes was a different ball game. Guilty. He felt really guilty. He couldn't help the fact he didn't like Francis that way, but… Maybe he should've at least tried to explain it before things had gotten this bad. He shouldn't have let things hit their peak the way he had. Maybe then Francis wouldn't be in this emotional state, like he was right now.

It was hard to get his mind off of it. Not even the game of soccer they were playing in gym helped him. Usually, playing his favorite sport cleared his mind. It left him some sort of strange peace. Almost a type of harmony could be established in his brain, his thoughts all becoming calm. Everything in him felt peaceful. But that was not one of those times. He felt tense and guilty and it was showing in his performance. He had completely missed a pass, tripped over the ball, and, at some point, ran towards the wrong goal.

Ugh. He was a mess.

He was unaware of the fact that Alfred seemed to be watching. Alfred didn't talk very much, nor did people usually talk to him, so he spent a lot of time simply watching and listening. He was doing the same thing now as he stood motionless on the field, simply staring at the middle of the field as the students fought for the ball. Arthur was in that mess and Alfred could tell something was bugging him. Arthur was doing poorly and the furrowed brow was a supporting factor to his troubled state.

It wasn't usually like him to be bothered by the problems of others, because he had so many of his own to worry about, but… Something about Arthur's state really troubled him.

After a few more faults, Arthur finally threw his hands up into the air. He then handed the ball off to one of his teammates, and then began to walk towards the sidelines of the field. The remaining student body, and the coach, stared at him for a moment, but it seemed as if no one knew how to stop Arthur. The soccer player never had problems like this. He usually seemed levelheaded, collected… The teen was obviously having some sort of issue…

Alfred watched as Arthur stalked off the field, before he simply flopped down on some empty grass near the sidelines. He was dragging his fingers through his bangs over and over, teeth gritted, and his eyes, a window to the soul, showed obvious anger and irritation and something else that Alfred could not quite name.

After a long moment of hesitation, of mental debating, Alfred found the ability to move. He didn't rush, though. He simply moved in a walk, moving along the sidelines, closer to Arthur. No one usually noticed him, and Alfred guessed that was why no one seemed to be noticing him now, either. He simply walked off the field and over to where Arthur was sitting.

Slowly, Alfred seated himself on the ground beside Arthur.

For a long moment, neither of them looked at each other, let alone spoke. Arthur continued to pull his fingers through his hair, obviously agitated, and Alfred just sat there, knees to his chest and his eyeballs cast toward the ground.

Arthur's hand suddenly moved and he let it hit the grass. He began to pick some of the green fiber out of the ground, just rubbing it between his fingers absently before pulling up more grass. The silence between them was thick and very uncomfortable. Alfred was used to being silent, seeing that no one really talked to him except Ivan… But this silence was different. It made the air heavy, and it just felt bizarre. Uneasy. It was a different kind of silence and Alfred did not like it.

Obviously, Arthur didn't either, because after a moment or two more he let out a pitched, irritated sound that somewhat resembled a sigh. Alfred bit his lip but did not make a comment, not quite sure of what to say. Thankfully Arthur seized the opportunity to speak.

"Has something ever happened to you that, like…" he trailed off for a brief moment, eyeballing the blue sky that painted the space above their heads. A lone, wispy cloud rolled on by above, and it seemed to be the focus of Arthur's emerald eyes. "I mean… You shouldn't feel bad for making the choice you made, but someone makes you hesitate? Someone makes you feel actually bad about it?"

Arthur paused. He turned his head a bit in an attempt to meet Alfred's gaze. Alfred's eyes were still fixated on the ground; there was no direct eye contact. With a rough sigh through his nose, Arthur dragged his fingers through his hair again. Alfred hesitated for a long moment, before he nodded slightly. He seemed to be trying to gather his words, before he licked his lips, and dared himself to look at Arthur's face.

"That… Well, it happens to me a lot." Alfred said quietly, before he instantly let his eyes fall to the grass beneath him once more. He couldn't look Arthur in the eye. It was hard enough talking to him, let alone look him in the face. He wasn't used to social interaction, let alone eye contact. It made him so uncomfortable. It was even hard to meet gazes with Ivan sometimes. "I mean… Well, let's just say people like to act that way to you when you're someone like me. So, I guess I do understand."

The silence between them was thick and awkward. Alfred was motionless, arms wrapped tightly about his knees, just studying the patterns on the blades of grass. Arthur seemed conflicted, grinding his teeth absently, borderline glaring up at the clouds overhead.

"Who was it?"

Alfred's voice was but a whisper. Regardless, Arthur jumped at the question, head swiveling and eyes widening. He was honestly surprised by the sudden inquiry. He stared at Alfred for a moment, although the boy did not look back. Arthur then turned his head again, and licked his lips, seeming to try to figure out how to answer.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to tell Alfred. It was just…well, it was more than just a little awkward. It was complicated as well. Alfred didn't know much to anything about his personal life, only what the talk around the school let him hear. He wasn't sure how much Alfred knew about Francis and the others. He surely only knew about what Arthur had told him…and probably, his own feelings regarding the group.

The whole Francis liking him thing was probably a different ballgame.

"You don't have to tell me." Alfred spoke softly once more, just shaking his head ever so slightly, before he let his chin, once more, settle atop of his kneecaps. "It's not my business anyway."

"No, that's not—" Arthur let out a frustrated breath. "I'm just not sure how to explain it, I guess. It's kinda weird."

Alfred just nodded at first. He remained silent momentarily, like usual, that vast, thinking, occupied look in his eyes. "It's fine. I'm not making you tell me. But I guess if you need an ear I have one you could borrow. Maybe I'm not good with words, but I can listen."

Alfred felt uncomfortable. It felt weird conversing with someone, let alone someone like Arthur. It felt strange to be on the edge of talking about their problems, to be discussing their personal lives, to be offering help to one another. It was very strange and Alfred was not used to it at all.

Did this mean they were becoming friends?

Arthur suddenly groaned and rolled over, flopping onto his back on the hard earth. He was spread-eagled, studying the vast blue sky and let his fingers trace through the grass. Alfred simply watched him, not daring to copy his actions, however. Alfred then turned his head and looked back at the crowd of students. He felt dissociated, strange even, like he was looking in from the outside.

"I mean, if you told what was on your mind, then there's not much else to say. You've done what you could." Alfred's voice was soft. It was almost hypnotic to Arthur. A stray thought, wondering why Alfred didn't speak more, wandered through his conflicted brain. "Nothing to really feel guilt over, I guess. Just do what you can. I don't know."

Again, there was stillness. It felt perhaps a bit lighter now. Alfred was used to quiet, used to silence of all types. The silence in his home had aided in this. Arthur, however, was not. He was used to speech, to energy, to constant movement.

Perhaps that was why he blurted it out. Perhaps that was why he tried to jump subjects so quickly. He needed to clear his head, if only for a short time. The constant thought of Francis was maddening. The guilt was tearing him apart. He had no reason to be completely guilty, however, and he knew this. It was his life, and simply putting out how he felt was not a crime. Francis would surely rebound from it. Arthur needed to focus on himself, first of all. He needed to worry about his own feelings, his own actions, his own thoughts. He needed to worry about how to make himself happy before he made others happy.

Arthur swallowed and threw caution to the wind. He had to do this.

"Alfred, are we still on for the weekend?"

Alfred jolted at that question. His head swiveled around in an attempt to look Arthur in the face, but the teen had already turned his head. Alfred was not sure if it was intentional or not. Perhaps Arthur, to put it simply, did not want to look at him.

And in a way, Alfred was correct. Arthur had fixated his eyes elsewhere. His head was turned at an angle so Alfred could not see his face. Color had blossomed in his fair cheeks, and his eyes seemed to dart with nervousness. God, he was so embarrassed. Did this really count as asking Alfred out?

No, no of course not! It was just…to form a better friendship. Yeah, that made sense. He and Alfred still didn't know each other too well yet. They were just going to hang out. That was all. Just spending time together as friends – well, the start of friendship – and nothing more.

Arthur was still for a moment, before he blinked. Suddenly, the color seemed to entirely drain from his face as he stared into space. Of course, it was nothing more than 'just friends' to him… But what about to everyone else? What if Francis said something? What if someone saw them? What if rumors suddenly started?

A slew of bad thoughts strung together in his mind. Slurs ran through his mind. Disappointed, mocking faces. Loud, accusing, angry voices. Arthur's hands clenched tightly and his stomach coiled tightly.

"W-What did you have in mind?"

Alfred's voice was so quiet in the loud, loud world. Arthur barely heard him over the roar of his own mind. Despite only hearing that one little sentence, his hands suddenly loosened, his body growing less tense, and his mind perhaps a little calmer. Alfred had that quality to him. He had the ability to calm Arthur, even though the teen did not fully understand how.

How so many people grew angry at Alfred, Arthur did not understand.

Wait. Arthur's head suddenly swiveled around. Green eyes met blue in one split second, before Alfred quickly looked away. If Arthur was not mistaken, he saw the hue of red invade the boy's cheeks. Silence bloomed between them once more. Arthur was sure that Alfred could hear his heart pounding. He swallowed hard, struggling to suck down the lump in his throat.

Alfred had accepted his offer.

Oh, God. What did he do now?! He had no idea of what else to say. He hadn't even had the time or proper mindset to plan it all out yet! He had been so preoccupied with the ordeal regarding Francis, he hadn't even made a time schedule or found a location yet.

Keep it together, Kirkland. Arthur reminded himself to breathe, and attempted to control said pattern in a blind hope he'd calm down a little. Think, think… What did Alfred like? Arthur wasn't too sure, if he was being honest. Alfred never liked to talk about himself, his hobbies, his home life… He seemed so uncomfortable with anything that was connected to him in some way.

He tried to go over what he knew about Alfred. He sure didn't know very much, so it was hard. He vaguely recalled Alfred's school schedule. The teen's day was jam-packed with science and math classes. Obviously a person who wasn't too fond of either subject wouldn't get their schedule full of them. What type of science did Alfred prefer, though? Arthur frowned ever so slightly, not knowing that either. But… If he could find something that was science related to begin with, it'd be okay, right…?

Science… Arthur thought for a long moment, trying desperately for some kind of plan. Alfred was staring at him now. The chubbier teen had quite a bit of doubt welling within him now, and it was showing on his face. Arthur was making it up this whole time, wasn't he? Just some gimmick, not that he was expecting anything different—

"I have a lot in mind." Arthur's voice came then, laced with a sudden, almost alarming amount of confidence. Alfred blinked, his cheeks reddening a little as Arthur suddenly just grinned at him. That stupid smile… What was he up to? "Though I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

Alfred hated surprises, but he decided not to tell Arthur that.

Arthur did have something in mind though. Well, a few things. He hoped Alfred wouldn't object to any of it… The boy was still rather skittish around him, after all. Arthur still wasn't sure if Alfred trusted him or not. He doubted it, but maybe this could show he was really trying. And Arthur was. That's all he wanted was to show he meant all that he said.

"It's nothing…crazy, is it?" Alfred asked, a hint of fright twinkling in his eyes. Arthur seemed a lot more headstrong than he was. He could only imagine what Arthur had up his sleeve. Sports, something dangerous, something insane… Alfred shivered a little.

"No! No, nothing close." Arthur laughed a little, though it sounded a little awkward. Arthur felt so uneasy when he spoke to Alfred. He was so scared of messing up around him. He was afraid he'd say something wrong, make a mistake… Ugh, it was so embarrassing. Alfred's strange ability to make his insides turn to mush and make his mind freeze and his tongue stop working, it was so difficult to deal with. "It's…quite the opposite, I'd say."

Alfred was silent for a really long time. Arthur swallowed, rather loudly, nervous for a moment of how the boy was going to react. A large part of him was afraid Alfred was going to change his mind. Either that, or doubt his words. Arthur could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he anxiously awaited Alfred's response.

"…I… I suppose so, then." He sounded unsure, but that simple confirmation was all Arthur needed. A big, dorky smile broke out on the soccer player's lips all of a sudden. Alfred had looked away by now and therefore did not see it. The chubby teen's cheeks were red by now and he was awkwardly rubbing his neck. "How… How is this going to work, though? Like, times and stuff?"

"Well, if you want to be there as early as possible, the place opens at nine. They get busier as the day goes on, I've noticed. Though if you're not an early person, we—"

"Arthur, it's fine. I really don't mind…"

"Okay, then…" Arthur bit his lip. This was going to be the most awkward part of it all. He knew Alfred didn't drive. He walked to get to places, and he was the one who made this invitation in the first place. Still, Alfred's reaction to the next question was something he was dreading a bit. "W-Would you care at all if I came to get you? I mean, it's a bit of a drive…"

Color. Alfred's cheeks went darker and Arthur's became invaded by a tiny rainbow of pink and red. It was awkward between them again, and Arthur suddenly realized how much this sounded like a date, now. Picking Alfred up, driving him places, spending the day together… No, but it wasn't a date! That was silly…

Obviously embarrassed by the request, Alfred only nodded. God, he was so cute in Arthur's eyes. His colored cheeks and rounded features and those big, blue eyes…

"R-Right, well… I guess I'll come get you at eight, if that's okay." Arthur dug through the pocket of his shorts and extracted his phone. Thumbing through a few menus he opened up a blank note. "What's your address?"

And after a long moment of debating, Alfred caved in and told him. Arthur grinned and typed it into the note and saved it, still wearing that stupid smile on his face that made Alfred have a wide range of emotions that he didn't quite know how to label.

Arthur had it all planned out in his brain now. He could swing by and get Alfred, then jump onto the road. The drive was around half an hour. He wasn't sure how long it was going to take, but maybe if there was enough time left over they could do something else. Something smaller. No point in turning in early, after all.

Now, he just hoped things wouldn't be as awkward as they were right now. He hoped he could think of something good to talk about with Alfred. The less awkward silences they had, the better.

Maybe he could finally get to know more about Alfred during this time span. Of course, Arthur had no intentions of prying. He told himself not to ask personal questions. If Alfred wanted him to know a certain fact or detail, he would tell him. But, maybe Arthur could learn other things. Like what was on Alfred's mind, what certain things he liked, how he viewed things… Yeah. Best to start small, after all.

Call him crazy, but he was kind of excited.

The sound of the coach's whistle seemed to jostle the two out of their own world. Arthur looked up first, and then Alfred. Arthur then hopped to his feet, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Alfred remained on the grass for a few more moments, before he sighed, heaving himself up. Arthur was in the process of dusting himself off.

The class was beginning to head back towards the gym. The two blonde boys remained in place for a moment, just watching. It was quiet between them, though that was not surprising. However, it didn't feel quite so strange or uneasy. It was just…quiet. Silent, nothing more, nothing less.

"I guess we should go, then." Arthur broke it after a moment, looking over at Alfred.

The chubbier teen nodded his head and began to walk. Arthur fell in step beside him and the two walked behind the crowd, just silently enjoying each other's company. Alfred was a man of few words, and Arthur could not think of anything to say. So he simply said nothing.

It was strange. It was quiet, unusual, it was anything but what they were both used to. But for whatever reason, it left a strange kind of comfort.

If they dared to admit it, it was nice.

Alfred walked into the gym first, and Arthur followed behind him. Arthur took a deep breath and slowly released it. He felt better. His mind was a lot clearer, and despite the fact that Alfred made him so out of his comfort zone, with his mushy insides and shaking hands, it was nice.

He entered the gymnasium, and let the door close behind him, blissfully unaware of the three faces peeking out from behind the blinds of a second floor classroom.

* * *

Chapter 7: End.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm back! I apologize for my rather long absence, but hey, here I am! I really hope you guys enjoy this update, seeing that it took me forever and a day to get out to you all. Thank you very much for waiting around for me and for all the encouragement!

* * *

"What a load," Gilbert muttered, slouching over in his desk. He tapped one foot absently on the dirty floor of the math classroom as their teacher droned on effortlessly about functions.

His eyes flicked to Antonio first. The darker skinned male sat diagonal from him, his desk just slightly behind Gilbert's. He had doodles all over the margins of the sheets in his notebook. Absent-minded, Gilbert decided. He flicked his eyes up to the boy's face then, and judging by the spacey look he saw there, he was not focused at all right then. However, Gilbert could make a pretty good guess as to what he was thinking about. Antonio was the prime example of the phrase 'the eyes are the window to the soul'. There was that glimmer in his eyes, and it was proof enough the boy was upset.

Without fully realizing he had done so, Gilbert had focused his attention on Francis now. The blonde sat in front of Antonio, his head presently lowered onto his folded arms.

Gilbert's grip tightened on the pencil in his hand. _Arthur_. Just the mere thought of that stupid kid made Gilbert's blood boil.

Sure, they had all known Arthur's interests were straying. And for a while Francis seemed happy that the brat finally developed feelings toward someone else. But it appeared that Francis seemed to finally understand something. Alfred had not rejected Arthur like Francis had been expecting. No, he had accepted nearly_ everything_, and Arthur was rapidly falling more and more head over heels for the blundering idiot. Arthur was no longer available, despite how long and hard Francis had been fighting for his love. There was no crash from rejection, and Arthur was not crawling to his feet like Francis was expecting. All his efforts now meant nothing. Francis could want and want, but he couldn't have what he desired. Instead his efforts trickled down an empty drain while Arthur's heart fell upon a boy who seemed to come from nowhere.

That already made Gilbert pretty peeved. But what made it all the worse in his eyes was how Arthur had ditched them. Oh, they gave him so much, allowing him – previously nothing more than a splattered shadow on the wall – to join them. No one even knew who he was. Then it all began to build, the rungs of the ladder expanding under his feet, and he became more apparent to the eyes of others. He joined the soccer team, attracted the attention of countless girls, and it seemed that the entire world suddenly knew his name. And here the brat was, claiming he never belonged there to begin with? Here he was now, hanging out with a giant Russian freak and his fat friend—

Wait. Gilbert's entire thought process came to a screeching halt as a slight smirk passed his lips. He had done a small bit of digging already, and he knew his assumptions were already correct. Arthur was already interested in Alfred; that was for certain. Rumors spread easily through the lips of high school students, and Gilbert knew someone with as much popularity as him could easily get people to talk.

This was perfect.

* * *

Arthur swallowed audibly as he sat in his truck. The road bumped under the enormous tires and the radio hummed some rock song Arthur didn't care about at all.

He looked into his rearview mirror and then back out at the road. He was anxious. He could only hope what he had in mind would be good enough; that it would be something both he and Alfred would enjoy doing.

He tried to focus on his breathing. The fabric of his shirt felt constricted around his chest and the thin chain around his neck seemed to be strangling him.

His imagination had been kicking into overdrive these past few days. Alfred's entire being haunted him, and it had grown beyond the point of escape for Arthur. Alfred, despite being absent physically, was there mentally.

Arthur wasn't sure if he hated it or not.

He glanced down, again checking Alfred's address, for what had to be the hundredth time now. Okay. 1680, 1682, 1684…

1688. Arthur's heart did a small flutter in his chest as he spotted Alfred's house. The short teenager was perched on the front steps, the eyes behind huge glasses seeming as if they were staring at something miles and miles away. Upon spotting Arthur pulling up, Arthur slowly staggered to his feet and began to wander towards Arthur's truck, which was now sitting in the empty driveway.

Leaving the truck running, Arthur opened the driver's door and leapt out, knees instantly bending as his feet made contact with the concrete. Alfred met him before the truck, arms folded as he looked more than just a little uncomfortable. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a red t-shirt that looked far too large for him. Arthur felt a smidge self-conscious in his form-fitting outfit suddenly.

He hadn't realized he had been staring until Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes sliding to Arthur's idling truck. No words were needed at that moment; the pair simply began to walk to the truck in silence. Arthur opened the driver's door with a jerk of his arm, and splayed a palm against the frame of the door. He was about to pull himself up when he noticed Alfred struggling on the opposite side of the truck. Arthur paused to watch, seeing that no matter how hard Alfred tried, he lacked the height and body strength to pull himself into the vehicle. He kept jumping blindly and scrambling about like a fish out of water, making absolutely no progress.

Without a single word, Arthur stepped away from the truck, and began to circle around to Alfred's side. The shorter teen's head swiveled around, and those eyebrows furrowed, lips parting slightly as if to ask something, but Arthur didn't allow the boy the chance. Before Alfred had a chance to object, Arthur reached out with quick arms and hooked them around the other's waist, and heaved him off the ground.

Alfred grew stiff in his grip immediately. A small jolt of concern ran through Arthur's chest. Every muscle in his body coiled and tightened almost instantly and Arthur could practically feel it against his own flesh.

Alfred's skin was warm. Arthur's arms, hooked about the teen's waist, pressed against the generous amount of weight that was gathered around Alfred's stomach. Fat was not a word in Arthur's dictionary, but he was definitely soft—

God. He hadn't even noticed how close they were. Alfred's face was right there. He could feel the boy breathing as he helped heft him into the truck. As soon as he was in the seat properly, Alfred almost instantly slammed the door shut, cheeks already bright red.

Arthur just smiled absently, walking around to his side of the truck. He hopped in and closed the door, noticing Alfred was refusing to make eye contact with him. Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbing his seatbelt with one hand as his other went for the gearshift. Right as he was about to back out of the driveway, he heard Alfred mumble one word: "thanks".

Arthur's lips split in an amused grin. He said nothing, merely nodded, and drove.

The drive was quiet. The most noise came from the radio and the sound of the road under the tires. Alfred continued to stare out of the window, watching everything drag by them, the cars looking so tiny in comparison to the truck.

Arthur peered over for a moment, noticing how Alfred's eyes had now strayed to the small stack of CDs nestled underneath the radio.

"You can look through them if you want," Arthur commented, his green eyes locked on the road once more. He saw Alfred shift out of the corner of his eye, however, and he heard the sound of the plastic cases now hitting one another.

Alfred held the cases in his lap and thumbed through them. Majority of them didn't really appeal to him; there were groups of men littered with tattoos and piercings and it really wasn't his style. However, the case on the bottom caught his attention easily. Alfred removed it from the stack and flipped it over, checking the track listing.

"Now this is_ definitely_ from back in the day." There was amusement in Alfred's voice, and Arthur peered over in curiosity. He froze, however, and color instantly flooded into the skin of his cheeks. "So the oh-so-great Arthur Kirkland still likes boy bands."

"No! No, I just—" Arthur bit at his lower lip, obviously trying to think of some sort of excuse. "One of my brothers probably put it there."

"Seriously, that's the best you can come up with?" Alfred's lips curled into a smile, before he blinked. His head swiveled around to look at Arthur, genuine surprise in those bright blue eyes. "You have brothers?"

"Three, actually. 'Not an only child, contrary to popular belief." He paused and glanced at Alfred, who was now staring out of the window of the truck once more. "What about you?"

Alfred merely shrugged in response.

Arthur took this as a red flag and instantly dropped the topic. An awkward silence settled between them then, the only noise resulting from the radio and the truck rolling over pavement.

The drive remained that way for many miles. Eventually Arthur heard the quiet snores emitting from the boy in the passenger seat. Arthur glanced over, quirking an eyebrow. He knew well enough that kids fell asleep in the car, but it was a little strange to him that it happened so easily to a teenager.

Arthur briefly took his eyes off the road to study the boy's face. His eyes were closed, blonde eyelashes fluttering. His bangs were brushed across his forehead and his glasses were slightly crooked as they sat upon his face. His mouth was open, just slightly, his breathing sounding light and calm as it passed between his lips.

Now that he noticed… Arthur frowned a bit. Alfred really did have nice lips. They weren't huge of course but they seemed full, and colored a soft pink. They looked…quite soft, really.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as his mind tried to force him elsewhere. Try as he might, he couldn't escape from his own thoughts. He swallowed roughly, knuckles glowing white—

_Kissing. Alfred was kissing him. Those soft lips were all over his, movement rough and hard and fueled by desire. Alfred tipped his head sideways and opened his mouth, as if to speak, only to be silenced as Arthur broke all sense of distance with a simple plunge of his tongue._

_Alfred was all over him. The softness of his body was squished against Arthur's chest as the shorter of the pair was perched in Arthur's lap. His arms, previously looped tightly around Arthur's neck, splayed over the other's chest, feeling the fluttering pulse under his fingertips._

_"Arthur," came a breathy little whisper and Alfred shifted his weight, warm fingers straying to the line of white buttons trailing down Arthur's shirt. There was that smile, that same damn smile that drove Arthur crazy. It showed off Alfred's white teeth and his lips pulled shyly to the side and…he looked stunning._

_Arthur's skin was tingling, sweat gathering in his hairline. Alfred looked up at him with watery, innocent blue eyes, and his hands moved. His knuckles grazed the silver of Arthur's belt—_

Arthur produced a violent jerk, hands moving out of reflex. The truck swerved slightly in its lane and Arthur fumbled slightly, trying to maintain control of his vehicle. He was so deep in thought he hadn't even realized he had lost track of the current world.

A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead and he swallowed, his throat feeling rough and dry. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced over at Alfred, relieved to find the boy still sleeping, undisturbed.

He shifted again, with more uneasiness this time, feeling an all-too-familiar aching below his waist. He ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore it, and let his eyes drift to the big blue sky over the highway.

That was it. He liked Alfred. He wanted Alfred so badly. And that was what it all boiled down to.

He, Arthur Kirkland, liked men.

* * *

"What in the hell is he doing?" Gilbert asked, sitting in the passenger seat. Arthur's truck – ahead of them by a good distance, but still close enough to be tracked – had started swerving momentarily on the road. He had his feet propped up on the dashboard, arms folded across his chest; overall, Gilbert was not in the best of moods.

"I'm not sure; Arthur is not typically that bad of a driver…" Antonio said quietly in response, tone puzzled. He huffed a little as he looked over at Gilbert. The corners of his mouth pulled downward and his brow furrowed in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your feet off the dash?"

Antonio was in the driver's seat, taking his eyes off the road briefly to look in the rearview mirror. Francis sat quietly in the back, staring out of the window, looking overall extremely uncomfortable. Antonio licked his lips and looked back out at the highway. There was tension thick in the air of the vehicle, and Antonio anxiously cut into it with his words.

"Gilbert, I don't know about this…" Antonio said cautiously, his tanned hands tightening on the steering wheel. His gut was warning him that this was all wrong, and Antonio really did not like it one bit. "You really want to do this just because Arthur wound up taking a different path? I don't really—"

"It isn't about that." Gilbert cut the brunette off with a huff. "Don't you get it? Arthur used us. We worked our asses off for that brat and what does he do? He throws it back in our face. He ditches us for a couple of dweebs and he acts like nothing even happened!"

"Gilbert, you're being downright ridiculous!" Antonio began to argue with the pale boy, his green eyes appearing a little more than angry as he stared out at the vast highway before them. "Look, I can understand that you and Arthur never really got along to begin with, but following him just to 'get back' at him is dumbfounding—"

"I didn't ask you!" Gilbert cut in, his voice suddenly vicious. Antonio instantly fell silent at that change of tone. "Here's the deal. I'm tired of Kirkland constantly getting his way, and if you want my honesty, I think it was pretty damn shallow of him to just ditch us the way he did. We took him and raised him up, and you know what he did? He spit down on us, and you know it.

"And so here we are, and you honestly expect me just to sit back and watch it all unfold? No, I don't think so. I'm not about to let the brat keep going the way he has. If he thinks he can pull some little stunt like that and just keep on going like nothing even happened, then he has another thing coming…especially after how well we looked after him."

Antonio swallowed and continued looking out at the road. This was wrong, completely and utterly messed up, and he hated it. Yes, Gilbert had a point, but Antonio was not the type to seek revenge. Francis, perhaps, depending on the situation, but he didn't even seem like he wanted to be in the car at all. He seemed nothing but uneasy about it all and Antonio could tell he just wanted to go home.

But Gilbert was different. Gilbert was a bit different overall from the other two in the group. Gilbert was headstrong and stubborn and loud. He had a temper that stemmed from his father's and once he set his mind on something, there was no moving him from it.

Perhaps that was why Gilbert led the pack. Antonio and Francis, despite having their own opinions and thoughts and beliefs, often caved to the peer pressure that Gilbert set up before them. Gilbert often used words rather than threats against them that often led to guilt, or perhaps it was fear of being kicked out of the group that stirred them into going along with it all. Gilbert was in charge, and the more Antonio thought about it, it had been that way for as long as he could remember. And more often than not these days, he hated it.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to argue.

That was one thing Antonio really liked about Arthur. Arthur had a temper that – if it bubbled up enough – easily was worse than Gilbert's. Oh, the pair fought a lot, even worse than Arthur and Francis did on their worst days. Gilbert would say something and go on and on and Arthur would finally snap. Things usually escalated from there; Arthur screaming something about Gilbert being full of it, Gilbert calling Arthur names, things of that nature.

Once, their argument had gotten so bad the two had thrown punches until Francis and Antonio managed to hold them back. The two became reduced to name-calling and fighting their captors' grip until they wore themselves out and their faces were beet red.

Antonio smiled absently at that memory. Even with everything bad that had happened, he had to admit, he was thankful for certain things Arthur had done. After all, Arthur had the courage to stand up and speak out. He had the nerve to call Gilbert out on certain things he did, and had the guts to say no.

Antonio and Francis did not find it quite so easy.

"Are you in or not, Antonio?" Gilbert's voice cut into his daydreaming roughly. The brunette jumped a little, eyes flicking over to his friend's face. Anger was etched into the grooves of the pale teen's face, his brow furrowed, lips pulled tightly.

His green eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, glancing over his friend that remained perched alone in the backseat. Francis looked entirely miserable, almost sickly, and Antonio knew he had simply caved in without a word.

And, despite his brain screaming for him to object, Antonio let out a few simple words that said the exact opposite.

"I suppose so…"

Meanwhile, a few miles ahead, Arthur's huge truck proceeded to shut off in the parking lot. Arthur removed the keys from the ignition, and held them tightly in his palm. He tried to will himself to relax. He tried to alter his breathing pattern by taking in slow, deep inhales and exhales. He had to calm down.

After a moment – having composed himself as much as he could – Arthur adjusted his weight in the seat. His eyes focused on Alfred, who, during the drive, and tried curling up in the seat. He had his arms curled against his chest, his head tucked down so that his chin resided close to his breast, and his back curved as he had squished himself down as much as he could.

His heart did a little flutter in his chest.

Arthur reached out with one shaking hand, and let it hook onto Alfred's arm. The skin was soft under his hands, and Arthur gulped, before he shook the boy lightly. "Alfred, wake up."

The boy mumbled something that Arthur could not understand, before he shifted around a bit. He rose slowly, those blonde eyelashes fluttering as he was pulled out of a deep sleep. When his eyes were finally open, Alfred seemed to pause, understanding what was happening. Arthur's hand was still perched on his arm, green eyes peering down at him. Alfred's face burned bright red and he pulled backwards, and almost instantly, Arthur's hand went flying back towards his own body.

For a moment, the awkward silence between them returned. Arthur cleared his throat, absently tugging at the collar of his shirt. "We… We, uh, we're here."

Alfred ran a hand over his face. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep, let alone the entire trip! Wait… The entire trip? Alfred's curiosity flooded his insides and he sat up fully in the seat of the truck, peering through the window in an attempt to see their destination.

Across the parking lot, he could see a building. It was huge, covered with off-white paint and big windows. Alfred squinted behind his huge glasses, trying to see a little better. He caught sight of what looked like a wave painted on the sign, and fish, and—

It hit him. They were at an aquarium. Arthur had taken him to an _aquarium_.

Alfred's lips curled into an unexpected, large smile. Arthur caught sight of it, a tad surprised. He had never seen Alfred smile like that; it was like he could light up the entire world with a smile like that… The butterflies in his stomach returned, going wild inside of him, and Arthur did not even realize he had started grinning as well.

"Come on, you drove us, and now you're just going to sit there?" Alfred asked, a question that was rhetorical. He did not look back at Arthur as he pried open the door, grabbing hold of the frame, and leapt out. It was quite a drop for someone of his height, but he managed to land alright on his own two feet.

Arthur was dumbfounded. He remained perched in his seat for a moment, just staring into nothingness. This Alfred, this unknown side of him that Arthur had yet to see… He was fascinating. Those smiles, that excitable attitude, and that twinkle in those eyes that screamed curiosity into the sky; it was perfect.

"You did good, Kirkland." Arthur smiled to himself as he opened the door. Alfred was standing before the large truck, all but bouncing on his heels as he waited. His eyes were focused solely on the building looming in the distance. Arthur hopped out of the truck himself and closed the door, locking the vehicle, and then cramming the keys down into the pocket of his jeans.

Alfred seemed to take this as a green light and practically ran across the parking lot in the direction of the aquarium.

Arthur had to admit, despite being a soccer player and being in shape, it was hard to keep up with Alfred when the boy was excited. He all but sprinted inside and Arthur rushed to keep up with him. He wouldn't hold still while they were in line to get their tickets, and while Arthur paid, Alfred's eyes were fastened to the doors standing motionless just before them.

Alfred all but dragged him inside after the purchase of their passes.

After the passing of only a few minutes, a familiar car hauling three boys pulled into the same parking lot.

The inside of the building was noticeably different than the outside. Arthur felt a difference in temperature, and it was a bit darker as well. It was a little busy from it being the weekend, although Arthur had to admit, it wasn't terribly so. Just a few groups of people here and there, thankfully.

Alfred led the way, and Arthur gladly let him. To him, it was just fish. But Alfred apparently saw something different in his eyes. Arthur could tell by how wide his eyes were behind his glasses, how he zoned in on what seemed like every creature in the tanks, and how he read every piece of information hanging beside the glass.

For someone like Alfred, who loved to learn, a place like this was heaven.

The first tanks they saw didn't really have anything mind-blowing. There were quite a few freshwater fish, majority of them plainly colored. The further into the aquatic place they roamed though, things became more interesting, even to Arthur.

There were huge tanks, tanks with sharks, tanks with jellyfish and brightly colored fish Arthur had never heard of. Alfred really seemed to like the tiny blue and orange ones.

Things expanded after a while. The layout of the aquarium changed slowly, and after a while, Arthur found the two of them wandering down a darkened tunnel. The walls and ceilings were clear glass, filled with water and sea creatures. He tipped his head back as he walked beside Alfred, eyeing the shark swimming above them.

Alfred veered off to a wall, going close to the glass to watch the sea turtles. Arthur instantly paused as well beside him, green eyes simply watching, while Alfred's blue seemed to be absorbing everything he saw.

Arthur swallowed and crammed his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, to hide how badly they had started shaking. The atmosphere between them was relaxed now, but Arthur still felt a little nervous deep inside. He was so scared to mess up, to disappoint Alfred, to make a fool of himself…

But that was just it. Things seemed…peaceful. After all, Arthur had never seen Alfred smile this much since the day they had met. He seemed to have forgotten his worries and found some sort of peace within himself for right now. And Arthur really liked that. He liked this soft, real side of Alfred. He was no longer a hollowed out old shell of a boy, but rather, someone simply at peace with the world.

Arthur smiled a little and stared into the depths of the water. A puffer fish seemed to glare at him as it swam by, and Arthur couldn't help but laugh a little. Alfred blinked, and glanced up at him, looking puzzled. Little wavy lines drifted across Alfred's face from the movement of the water reflecting on his skin, and his eyes looked so bright and blue and beautiful in the current light.

This large part of his heart wanted to kiss him, but his brain knew better than that.

"It's nothing, really." Arthur said simply, still grinning. Alfred's eyebrows lowered, hanging just above his eyes now, and his lips forming what looked like a pout. "No, seriously, Alfred. I just… I'm having a really nice time. I'm glad you decided to come along."

Alfred blinked, and blushed darkly in the tunnel. He averted his gaze, and Arthur knew easily enough that shyness was coming back. He mumbled something along the lines of 'you're welcome', or 'it's nothing', or something like that. Arthur wasn't quite sure but he didn't really care anymore.

He had all he wanted right now anyway.

To his relief, things didn't even really seem that awkward after what he had said. Alfred was quiet as always, and Arthur didn't really know what to say. But despite the thick silence between them, it wasn't awkward. No, it was light and wonderful and Arthur didn't want it to end.

But, Arthur knew it would not be long before it would. He could see the faint glowing of exit signs in the distance. Sure, he had other places in mind to go later, like maybe get ice cream on the way home or something, but that surely would not be able to beat what he had already given Alfred.

Arthur took a moment to breathe. He closed his eyes for a moment and simply inhaled slowly. His imagination slowly stirred back to life, and he imagined them at the exit; he was bent over, and Alfred was on his tiptoes. Alfred's arms linked tightly about Arthur's neck and they simply kissed, shyly and out in public for the world to see—

"Arthur… Arthur, come on. The crowds are moving." Alfred's warm palm met his arm and Arthur came crashing back to earth. Alfred began to lead the way to the last few exhibits, and Arthur slowly followed him. His being screamed for more contact, for Alfred to simply brush against him like he had a moment ago. It was as if he was deprived of human contact, and he was absolutely desperate for something, anything, to fill the void.

The remainder of the aquarium flew by. The next thing Arthur knew, they were heading out the back door and wandering around the rear of the aquarium. Alfred was rubbing at his arm, seeming to be thinking about something, and finally, he simply sighed, and looked up at Arthur.

They stopped walking, and Arthur then noticed just how different they really were. Alfred stood before him, so short in comparison to the soccer player. He had red undertones in his cheeks, hiding under the scars of acne. He stood there in jeans and a t-shirt and yet Arthur could still see the round curve of his stomach under his clothes.

And there stood Arthur, an average height for a boy and a regular old build. He had very little muscle on his abdomen and all else was just there, simply skin and not much else. He clothed himself in jeans and two shirts, layered, and he realized that his black boots contrasted so sharply with Alfred's beat-up old sneakers.

"I had a lot of fun, Arthur." Alfred smiled at him and Arthur was positive he felt his heart drop into the pits of his stomach. "I really did."

He couldn't do this, he couldn't keep this quiet, he couldn't handle it! God, it was driving him downright crazy now. His heart was hammering and his skin was hot and he couldn't take his eyes off that stupid kid in front of him.

"Me too. Ah… Alfred, listen, there's…" One of his freckled hands rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to find the words that were stuck in his throat. "T-There's something I need to talk to you about."

Alfred was just staring at him innocently, curious and waiting. Arthur bit at his lip, trying to force out the words, and it hurt.

"A-Alfred, I just—" He swallowed again. "I really… Alfred, I really—"

Arthur did not receive a chance to finish. Something cold and wet splashed into his face and he let out a strained grunt, stumbling back a little. He heard a sharp gasping noise rip out of Alfred's throat, and Arthur struggled blindly for a moment as he clawed at his eyes, trying to see. What felt like an ice cube slid down into his shirt and Arthur dared himself to open his eyes.

But at the sight of the three faces he saw when he did, Arthur really wished he hadn't.

* * *

Chapter 8: End.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Ah goodness you guys are too nice to me! Thank you very much for all of your kind words and encouragement, it really means a lot. It's good to hear you guys are enjoying the fic so far, I'm glad! Anyway, surprise, new chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it.

* * *

Arthur flung a hand over his eyes, trying his hardest to wipe away whatever liquid had been splashed onto him. Whatever it was, it burned his eyes, so he could only guess it was a soda or maybe lemonade. His bangs were absolutely soaked and hung limply into his eyes and his shirt was starting to stick to his chest.

"What the hell do you three want?!" Arthur sputtered, finally managing to keep his eyes open as he glared at the trio. Antonio and Francis were noticeably further away, standing behind Alfred in order to keep him blocked in. Gilbert stood directly in front of him, and Arthur had to admit, it really peeved him. Just looking at the pale teen made Arthur want to clock him across the face.

"Ah, nothing, nothing; we just happened to know about your little _outing _and decided to check up on you." Gilbert smiled at him, sickly sweet and _fake_, and Arthur's hands balled into fists. Antonio and Francis were unmoving, looking miserable, and Arthur instantly got an inkling to what was really going on. "Enjoy yourself?"

"You _followed _us here?!" Arthur snarled, a hand grabbing Gilbert by his shirt collar. "Do you have any idea how cowardly you are? And for what, are you _jealous, _perhaps?"

Gilbert's cheeks suddenly grew red, resembling a sunburn on his pale skin. Arthur smirked, gripping him tightly. Gilbert's hands had curled into fists now too; Alfred was entirely forgotten now as Antonio and Francis edged closer to the pair, fearing that at any second they were going to start throwing punches.

Arthur's hands were shaking. They were so close together, noses just mere inches apart, and then suddenly, Gilbert's anger seemed to dissipate. Gone was the rage, and instead, Arthur noticed that sly, plotting smirk he had seen many times creep across his lips.

"Of course I'm not jealous, Arthur." Gilbert grabbed Arthur's hands, prying them off of his collar, before prodding the soccer player in the chest with a long, thin finger. "Why would I be jealous of some _fag?"_

The world stopped spinning. Arthur's green eyes bulged from their sockets and he stumbled back a little, unable to speak. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and all he could hear was Gilbert's loud, sadistic laughter. Even his vision seemed fuzzy now.

They knew, they all knew! Arthur began to mentally panic, not sure of what to do. His brain was working too fast for him to keep up now, and Arthur was practically choking on his own breaths now. The insult did not hurt him, no; what hurt him was knowing the trio was already informed on this topic. And if they knew, then it wouldn't be long before the whole world knew—

"And really, for you to pick _this?" _Gilbert asked, and Arthur snapped to attention as Alfred let out a little cry. Gilbert had the short teen in a headlock, now messing up his hair and just _hurting _him as he roughly ran his knuckles over Alfred's scalp in repetitive motions. "I mean, really, Arthur, I thought you would have had better taste. Look at him! He's short, not to mention I haven't seen skin that bad in ages. There's no way in hell this little brat is anywhere close to puberty. And really, Arthur, I never knew you were one to dig fat people."

Alfred was crying. One of Gilbert's hands had grabbed hold of the weight gathered generously around Alfred's stomach, and no matter how hard Alfred squirmed, Gilbert wouldn't let him go. There was nothing but pure pain and sadness on Alfred's face, and maybe that was what made something snap in Arthur's brain.

Forgetting all else, Arthur took a swing. His fist made contact with Gilbert's face, and a sickening crack sounded. Arthur pulled back his hand – it was throbbing, and he only hoped he hadn't broken it – and inspected his work.

Gilbert howled in pain, instantly letting go of Alfred to stumble backwards. He held onto his face, mainly his nose, which was very obviously broken, and was gushing blood everywhere. The red liquid pooled in Gilbert's cupped hands and dribbled down his shirt. His eyes widened when Arthur grabbed his shirt collar, arm flying backwards, as if to strike again.

Two sets of arms found him suddenly, and Arthur cried out loudly as Antonio and Francis held him back. Arthur fought violently in their grip, an elbow hitting Francis under the jaw and a foot finding Antonio's shin. "Get your hands off me!"

The two did not comply. They simply held onto Arthur until the teen had calmed down a little. Fumes could still practically be seen spewing out of Arthur's ears, but at least now he wasn't throwing punches anymore. By now people were staring at them, and Arthur had to be honest, he was surprised no one had called the cops on them yet.

Arthur was huffing and puffing as he finally wriggled free of the grip holding him. His cheeks were red and he looked like he was going to blow a gasket, really. Antonio folded his arms, looking unimpressed as Gilbert was trying to stop the flow of blood from pouring out of his nostrils.

"I swear to God, if any of you pull a stunt like you did today again, I'll whip your asses without a moment's hesitation, got it?" Without waiting for a response, Arthur spun around to Alfred, who was still crying. Without saying anything, Arthur simply grabbed him by the wrist, and began to lead the boy out to the parking lot.

Alone now, the trio stood in uncomfortable silence. Antonio sighed and shook his head. "I told you this was not a good idea."

"Now isn't the time," Gilbert snarled, teeth stained red. He started to say something else, only to yelp as Antonio gave a smack against the shoulder. Despite it not being hard, Gilbert still recoiled out of reflex.

"Let me finish." Antonio did not look happy. He crossed his arms again, and his eyes narrowed. "Let me just say that I am anything but proud of calling you my friend right now, Gilbert. I'm starting to get tired of holding my tongue when all you do at times like this is make us look like a bunch of assholes. There is no reason for you to pull some stunt like this, trying to trample on someone's happiness, especially when you drag an innocent party into it. You got what you deserved."

Antonio began to walk back towards the parking lot, not saying anything else. Francis was quick to follow, and for a moment, Gilbert found himself completely alone. Slowly, he followed the others, leaving behind a little trail of blood on the concrete.

Meanwhile, Arthur's truck was bumping along the highway once more. Things had grown eerily silent. The only sound came from Alfred, who kept making little sniffles. He had finally stopped crying, but now he was congested and was having a hard time breathing.

Arthur felt terrible. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not realized they were being followed this entire time? If he hadn't done everything he had done already, they wouldn't be in this mess at all. This was his own fault…

Arthur bit down on his lower lip. The harsh term Gilbert had called him circled in his brain, and then he began to think all over again about the situation. Other people were going to find out, and he didn't want that. He couldn't afford for anyone else to know…

Trying to take his mind off of things, Arthur looked over at Alfred. The boy looked miserable. Arthur swallowed and stared out at the road, trying to think of something to say.

"Do you feel okay?" he asked, and mentally slapped himself across the face. What a stupid question.

"Fine." That was all Alfred said. He kept staring out of the window, and Arthur noticed he had slumped down in the seat, curling up into a little ball the best he could. But even with Alfred's words, Arthur could sense an uneasy aura radiating off of Alfred.

If he could read minds, he would know how badly the boy wanted to be dead.

"A… Are you sure?" Arthur asked hesitantly. Alfred actually glared at him, folding his arms tightly against himself. His eyes were watering again and he quickly looked away, trying to avoid Arthur from seeing him cry. "Alfred…"

"I'm just tired, okay?! I'm tired of people messing things up and making fun of me and everything always going badly in the end. That's what always happens." Alfred erupted into tears all over again, and Arthur felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

"Oh, Alfred… Come on, it'll be alright—"

"No, it won't, so don't _say _that! I'm tired of people saying it's going to be okay, because I've been waiting since the second grade for things to be 'alright'!" Alfred was bawling now, and Arthur didn't know what to do. Without thinking, he pulled over on the side of the highway, Alfred screaming and wailing the whole time. "I'm tired of being ugly, I'm tired of being so fat, and really, I'm just tired of being me, Arthur."

Those blue eyes were broken. Tears rolled freely down Alfred's chubby, red cheeks and he just hiccupped, mutely looking out the window.

"Alfred…" Arthur swallowed, and leaned over, putting a gentle hand on the boy's arm. Alfred tensed under his touch. This was all so different from the cheesy, romantic atmosphere from only a few hours prior. "Listen… I know this probably won't sound like much, coming from my mouth, but I just… I just want you to know that no matter what you think of yourself, no matter what you want to do to yourself, I'm here. I'll listen. I'll help as much as I can. And honestly, Alfred, I… I don't find you to be any of those things at all."

Alfred just looked at him. And then he let out a snort through his nose in disbelief and folded his arms again, obviously not buying whatever Arthur had to say. "What makes you think your opinion is so special?"

"Because I really like you, Alfred." And there it was. Arthur blushed as he sat there, rapidly getting darker by the second. Alfred's head swiveled around fast enough to snap his own neck, and his eyes were wide as he just stared at Arthur. And it was then that Arthur decided it was now or never. He needed to say it before it all wound up eating him alive, from the inside out. He had already started it, after all, and now he needed to finish it. "I like you a lot…"

"Y… You… Y-You do?" Alfred was stuttering. He didn't know what to say. His own cheeks were burning now and the last of his tears rolled down his cheeks, eyes slowly drying. "B-But—"

"Do you really think Gilbert just called me what he did, just because he could?" Arthur asked, rhetorically. Well, it wouldn't have surprised him if Gilbert called him something homophobic for the hell of it, but that was not the point. Alfred was still just eyeballing him, and finally, Arthur just swallowed, and spit out the words that had been haunting him for weeks now. "I think I'm in love with you, Alfred."

And it was then that Alfred's world came crashing down upon him. He just stared at Arthur as if he had grown a second head; his eyes were huge and confused and surprised, and his face was so red Arthur was honestly surprised he hadn't burst some blood vessels. The poor boy was positively shaking.

"I-I…" Alfred was stuttering as Arthur leaned closer to him. The soccer player was blushing too now, but not speaking, just getting closer and closer and Alfred didn't know what to do. Arthur was suddenly in his face. Hot air ghosted over him, and it was hard to see each other clearly now. Their noses were so close and lips even closer, and Alfred's pulse hammered violently in his chest. "A-Arthur, I—"

And suddenly, Arthur made his move. The teen had leaned in, one hand still loosely gripping the wheel despite the fact that the truck was in park. His nose bumped Alfred's gently, and Arthur tilted his head slightly, lips meeting Alfred's. The contact was gentle, curious, and loving, and Arthur's eyes closed instantly. Alfred, however, appeared to be in shock more than anything, for his eyes were still wide and he seemed frozen, unable to do a single thing.

Arthur's lips felt strange. They were slightly chapped, and it felt weird how they were moving against his own. Alfred had never, not once, kissed anyone. And now here they were, and Arthur Kirkland, the most popular boy in the entire school, was _kissing _him. _Him. _Alfred's hands were trembling violently in his lap. His heart sped violently in his chest and this warmth washed over him, all by itself, and Alfred let out the most pitiful whine on the face of the earth. His heart was positively hurting him and Alfred really did not know what to do. He felt fuzzy and uncertain and it felt like the world around them had stopped spinning entirely now.

His first kiss belonged to Arthur Kirkland.

And to Arthur, he was in heaven. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, and every part of him practically bubbled with happiness. He had finally gotten the chance to kiss Alfred. And God, Alfred's lips were so soft and smooth. A pain ran through his heart and Arthur realized just how long he had been waiting for this moment. Arthur really didn't want to pull away just yet, but he did not have a choice.

Alfred's hand met Arthur's chest, and pushed him away. It was not rough or harsh, and as Arthur looked down, trying to comprehend what was going on, he found the poor boy panting loudly for air in the passenger seat.

A big stupid smile curled up on Arthur's face.

Without another word between the two of them, Arthur began to drive once more. The silence between them was thick but it was not awkward for once, and Arthur found a content smile on his face despite the previous drama that had erupted only minutes ago.

Alfred found himself staring out the window, watching the cars blur beside them. His lips were tingling. His face was still a little red, and he shyly looked over at Arthur, who did not seem to notice his glances. Alfred then looked back out the window, and blushed darkly, all the way down his neck and up into his ears.

Arthur Kirkland was in love with him.

* * *

Alfred stood silently in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He had eaten dinner and taken a long, hot shower, trying to sort out his thoughts, and thinking about life. Arthur had dropped him back off at his home a few hours ago, and despite what had happened, it strangely…didn't feel strange. Arthur had just pulled into the driveway and Alfred hopped out, and Arthur just _grinned _at him, waved, and left. That was all. And before that, the drive had been dead silent, and Alfred did not understand it.

Arthur liked him. Arthur really, _really _liked him apparently. But… Alfred frowned as he stared into the reflective glass. The hot shower water made his face red, and brought out all the acne spots and scars on his face. His huge glasses hid majority of his face anyway, and his eyes seemed so distant behind them. He dressed so dumbly, he knew, with how he wandered around with suspenders on or big t-shirts, and he knew he had the sex appeal of a rock.

Hesitantly, Alfred looked down at himself. Arthur was so tall compared to him. The last time Alfred had his height checked, he was a measly five foot two, and he doubted he had grown any taller since then. And there was Arthur, practically a whole head taller than him. What was Arthur, then? Five foot ten, maybe eleven?

And their body types were so different, too. Arthur was slender from what Alfred could tell. Nothing on him wiggled when he walked, unlike when Alfred moved around. Arthur wore a lot of tight clothes, after all, and from what Alfred had seen, he had nothing more than a slender body and pretty curvy hips for a guy.

But his own frame… Ugh, he couldn't stand it. His stomach seemed so huge to him, and he was pretty sure he had put on another few pounds the past couple of weeks. Ivan told him it wasn't that bad, but Alfred saw differently. He always saw things differently.

He swallowed and absently tugged on his shirt hem, hiding as much of himself as possible. Why would Arthur like him…? What was the reason? Why would Arthur, someone so different from him, even speak to Alfred, let alone get a crush on him…?

A ringing sound emitted from his laptop, which was propped up and presently charging as it sat on his plush bed. Alfred clambered up on the bed and sat with his legs crossed, leaning forward to see who was calling.

Ivan.

Alfred smiled a bit. He had told Ivan he was going on a day trip with Arthur, and here he was, checking up on him it seemed. The best relationships came unexpectedly, and Alfred knew it. Ivan was the best friend Alfred could ever hope for.

He accepted the call. It took a moment for Ivan to come into focus, but there he was, sitting at his desk, clad in a light navy jacket and that scarf he never dared to take off. Alfred could hear the faint mumble of other voices in Ivan's home, but thankfully they were not loud and he could block them out.

"How was day?" Ivan asked first, a hand reaching out to grab a glass sitting on his desk. He took a sip of it and put it back down, staring at the screen of his own computer. "Arthur not do anything bad, yes?"

"No… Arthur was fine, actually. It was pretty fun until the very end, but I'll get to that in a second." Alfred shrugged a bit and leaned back against his mountain of pillows. Ivan raised his eyebrows, namely in confusion. Well, things went smoothly with Arthur apparently, so that was good news. "He… He came to get me and he didn't really provide me with any details, so it was kinda scary at first? Seeing that, you know, I didn't know what to expect…"

Ivan bobbed his head to show he understood. He listened to what Alfred had to say, and he tried to absorb every detail he could. It was still a bit hard sometimes with the language barrier, but he was slowly improving. He understood almost every word Alfred said these days, after all, so he felt accomplished with that.

Alfred talked for a while. Ivan had to admit, he was glad Arthur was smart enough to take somewhere that Alfred would actually like. Being the science-oriented kid, an aquarium was a good choice. Ivan didn't ask any questions; he simply sat back and let Alfred talk. He noticed the excitement in his eyes when he talked about the aquarium, and the cool species they had, and that Arthur didn't mind him taking forever and a day to look around…

"Yeah, but that was all really cool and whatnot. The only problem was… Well, when we were leaving, it…" Alfred sighed. "Remember Arthur's old friends?"

Ivan nodded, eyes narrowing now.

"Apparently they… They had followed us there, and anyway, they cornered us when we got out. Gilbert, I think that's what his name was, the really pale guy, he and Arthur started arguing… He said something to Arthur, a really rude name, and then he started messing with me…"

"What did he do?" Ivan asked, and Alfred saw anger flash through those bright eyes. Ivan looked suddenly furious, leaning forward in his desk chair.

"He… He just did the usual that people do. Called me some names and touched me and stuff…" Alfred sounded uncomfortable. He hated talking about his bullying encounters, they just made him so uneasy… "But… Arthur wound up grabbing him and punched him the face. He hit him so hard Ivan that he broke his nose."

Ivan leaned back in his chair now and simply smiled a toothless grin, and Alfred internally chuckled at how satisfied his foreign friend looked at that statement.

"But yeah, we went home after that," Alfred said, not mentioning how he was bawling the whole time. Best to save the embarrassment for himself, right? "'Been home for a few hours now, I think."

"That all that happened?" Ivan asked, quirking one light eyebrow. Alfred started to fidget at that question. "Alfred?"

"Well…" Alfred trailed off, staring into the blinking light of his laptop. He told Ivan lots of things, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to say what happened earlier in Arthur's truck. It was confusing and embarrassing, but even then, it proved Arthur wasn't making all this up…right? "Arthur… He…"

"What did he do?" Ivan asked, voice strangely quiet. He didn't seem to know what to expect. He frowned when Alfred's chubby cheeks started warming visibly on the screen, and the teen started squirming around. "Alfred, what…?"

"Y-You have to swear you won't tell anyone! And by anyone I mean _anyone_. You can't even mention it to Arthur, okay?" Alfred asked rapidly, his face a blushing cherry and his hands shaking. When Ivan nodded, he started slowly. "A-Arthur… Arthur said that he likes me."

Ivan blinked, and then he laughed softly. He just shook his head, almost seeming relieved. "I told you it possible—"

"No, Ivan, you don't get it! Arthur, he… He said that to me and then he just…" Alfred's fingers touched his lips. "Ivan, he _kissed _me."

At that fact, Ivan seemed to freeze. He had obviously not been expecting that type of news at all. "He _what?"_

"He… I didn't know what to do… I just kinda sat there like an idiot, but Arthur started smiling after it finished and we just came home…"

At this news, Ivan reclined back in his seat once more. He seemed at a loss for words, and the gears inside his Russian brain were clicking slowly as he tried to figure out what to say. He really didn't know how to feel or how to react. It was highly doubtful Arthur was faking all of this… It would be simply too much work to simply pull Alfred along like that, right? So that was good, that meant it was probably real.

But at the same time… It was _real. _Arthur really did like Alfred. Hell, he even kissed Alfred apparently.

"Alfred… When Arthur say he likes you, what did you say?" he asked slowly, almost hesitantly.

"I… I didn't really say anything at all. I guess I looked kinda dumb because I just kept sitting there with my mouth hanging open and just staring at him…"

"And… Well… Alfred, how you feel about Arthur?" Ivan asked, being completely serious now. "He likes you, but…?"

Alfred blinked, and then realized quickly what Ivan was talking about: how he felt about Arthur. Arthur liked him plenty, apparently, but… How did _he _feel? Alfred bit the inside of his cheek and his face warmed all over again.

Now that he thought about it… He didn't know. He didn't really know how he felt. He never really daydreamed about Arthur all that much or fantasized about him, except for that one time on accident where Arthur was practically crawling over him, but that was besides the point. He never really thought about kissing Arthur or anything like that before, so when it happened, it just did.

But… Even so, kissing Arthur had been so strange. It was warm yet awkward yet almost comforting in a way. It was like this tiny seed was ripping out the overgrown vine of sadness and emptiness that was feeding upon his insides.

Kissing Arthur felt strange, but… Alfred had to admit, he was curious for more. The way his body reacted to a simple touching of lips was fascinating. The way his pulse went wild, the fuzzy feelings, the butterflies that burst to life in his stomach… Alfred wanted more.

Maybe next time he could actually kiss Arthur back.

But besides his feelings from the kiss, Alfred did not know how he felt. Weren't people with crushes all sappy and stuck in their own thoughts about that person? If that was the case, then Alfred knew he probably didn't actually like Arthur as much as the soccer player liked him.

But there had to be something there, right? How else would he be able to explain the bubbly feeling inside of him when Arthur kissed him? Maybe when he finally hit puberty everything would change. Maybe then he'd get to know what a crush felt like or wanting to be with someone felt like. He felt trapped in the body of someone much younger than his years and he hated it.

"I… I'm not sure, Ivan. I'm not sure if I like him or not. You know how behind I am compared to the rest of you…" he muttered, sounding a bit annoyed. He hated being so short and how his voice had yet to deepen. "But… But when we kissed, there was this weird fuzzy feeling I got and it felt kinda nice… I think I'll see what happens…? That's okay, right?"

Ivan just smiled at him. Hesitantly, Alfred smiled back. His own smiles were so tiny and uncertain, and he was still trying to relearn how to do it properly. Grinning felt so weird and for the longest time he had forgotten how to do it. For the longest time, there had been no reason to smile.

"You do what feel right to you." Ivan said simply, crossing his large arms against his big ribcage. "No one can tell you how to feel. Follow heart."

"You're seriously the best, Ivan." Alfred just focused on the webcam and smiled the best he could. Ivan gave a nod of thanks.

Okay. So he could sit back and see where this took them. He didn't know what a crush felt like yet, but hey… He was still getting to know Arthur, he was still trying to learn trust, he was still developing. There were lots of things he needed to catch up on… And taking it slowly wouldn't hurt anybody, right? He didn't want to rush into anything too fast…

"I think I'm gonna go. Ivan, listen, I really appreciate the fact I can talk to you. You're the best, seriously." And Alfred meant that with all his heart. Ivan just laughed and told him to take it easy, and they ended the call.

At his own home, Ivan leaned back in his desk chair and sighed, raking his fingers through his bangs. Oh, this was complex. With Alfred being so inexperienced he didn't know what to do, and it wasn't like Ivan could tell him anything. The boy just needed to figure it out for himself.

At that same instant, Alfred had closed his laptop, and proceeded to lay down on the bed on his back. He absently draped his arms across his stomach and stared at the posters, trying to think.

Arthur. Arthur was weird, really strange, but it was in a way that made Alfred just wonder more than anything. He was kind of awkward for someone that was around people so much… Or was that just around Alfred that the soccer player acted like that?

His mind kept straying back to the kiss. Arthur's chapped, warm lips and those clouded green eyes that closed right in front of his face, the feeling of Arthur's mouth slowly, very slowly, moving against his own, curious and almost teasing.

Alfred dug his fingers into the bed sheets. He wanted to try it again.

But something about this entire situation was greatly bothering him. Did he only want to kiss Arthur some more to feel what it was like to kiss all over again? Or was it just because he wanted to kiss _Arthur? _Did he even have a crush on Arthur? Better question, what did a crush even feel like?

Better yet… What kind of person did Alfred really even like?

He didn't know. Sure, he had a computer, so he wasn't sheltered. He knew what naked people looked like, men and women. Girls looked nice, sure. Pretty curves, nice faces, soft looking skin… But Alfred never really felt any sort of urge toward them. He never desired to make any sort of move on a woman or never really pictured himself with a girl.

Men were different though. Now that Alfred thought about it, it was more common for him to stare at pictures of men longer than women. But was that a sex thing, or was it just that he was curious about what kind of man he could grow up to be?

Alfred let out a frustrated cry and flipped himself over, burying his face into the pillow and pressed his body flat against the mattress. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, trying so hard mentally to figure out this big dumb mess.

Oh, he just didn't know anymore.

* * *

Chapter 9: End.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ahh gosh thank you for all the feedback for the last chapter, you guys are such sweethearts, really. I had a few questions here and there and I promise you all your wonders will eventually be answered. There are certain things I hinted about so far in this fic but haven't explained yet, but it'll come, I swear! Anyway, thank you again for your kind words, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Sunday was uneventful. Alfred stayed inside, not doing much of anything, really. He had to admit though, he was really tired. He didn't sleep well that night. He was up thinking about the events of the day, about Arthur and that kiss. Even when he did fall asleep he had a violent nightmare and he didn't think he fell back asleep afterwards.

He finished up his homework and then lounged around in a silent house, watching TV and playing puzzle games on his computer. Ivan couldn't hang out; he had something to do with his family.

Alfred smiled faintly to himself as he glanced over at the calendar on his wall. Just two more weeks. He had to hold out only two more weeks, and then he could see his father again. He hated waiting.

He had lunch, feeling a bit self-conscious, even in the privacy of his own quiet house, and then curled up on the couch in the living room to watch a movie. He shut off all the lights and closed the curtains, submerging the house in thick darkness. He had wrapped himself in a blanket and was an hour into the movie when the doorbell ringing interrupted him.

Alfred frowned at that, and sighed. He hefted himself up and off the sofa and paused his movie, and began his journey to the front door. The hem of the blanket trailed across the floor and Alfred remained snuggled within it. He felt warm and secure within it, and it was wonderful.

He yanked the door open, eyebrows jumping up in surprise at the sight of Arthur standing on his front doorstep. His huge truck sat silently in the driveway, and there stood Arthur, wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt with some band name on the front of it. Alfred didn't recognize it. That same silver necklace that Arthur always seemed to wearing was suspended around his neck.

Alfred suddenly blushed, and wrapped himself up tighter in the blanket. He felt really awkward now. He looked a mess, surely; his hair had yet to be combed, he hadn't showered, and he hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajamas yet, despite it being nearly three in the afternoon.

But Arthur just smiled at him, that same dumb, warm, big smile, and put his hands in the main pockets of his shorts.

"I'm sorry, this is really late notice, huh?" he asked, kicking the toe of his shoe against the cement. "I was planning on going down to the park to practice soccer drills; did you wanna come…?"

The question hung in the air, and Alfred swallowed, not sure of how to respond at first. And then he smiled a little, awkwardly so, and looked down at the ground.

"It… It sounds like you just came up with some excuse to visit me, but okay." Alfred shrugged. Well… Getting out of the house for a while did sound nice. It was a little rude of Arthur to just stop by without any prior contact, but he supposed he could let it slide this time. He just hoped it wouldn't be awkward or anything, especially considering how Arthur had mentioned already that he loved Alfred. But hey, giving himself more time to spend with Arthur would possibly give him more time to think about his feelings toward the other teenager. Right? "Why not… I guess I could go, but I'm not decent or anything…"

"I can wait," Arthur offered, shrugging himself now, purposefully withholding a response to Alfred's first comment. To his surprise, Alfred actually complied, and opened the door further. Alfred ushered Arthur inside, and began to lead him upstairs. Arthur began blabbing about his family, saying something about how his father and oldest brother got into a physical fight last night. Something about his mom breaking them up and the two made such a mess, blah blah blah. Gosh, Arthur sure did like to talk. Alfred hadn't been expecting that one at all, really. Though right now, he was a little grateful for it; he had no idea what to say and the quiet would've been awkward anyway.

"Ah… This is my room. You can wait in here." Alfred said, waving Arthur toward the bed. The soccer player sat down on it slowly, gingerly, and took a look around. Alfred had discarded the blanket on the floor and was already halfway out into the hall. "I'll be right back, please don't touch too many things, okay?"

Arthur nodded absently, and jumped a little as he heard a door close roughly. After a moment he heard the sound of running water, and Arthur, only then, relaxed. He tried not to think about the fact the boy he had a crush on was presently showering, instead trying to focus his attention on the foreign room around him.

Alfred had pretty good taste. Arthur really liked the color combinations, and the posters were pretty interesting. Arthur found himself staring at the photos Alfred had on display though, and he frowned. Arthur never spoke of his family, and it was a tad concerning. He could tell the people in the photos were related, judging by the hair and the eyes and the facial structures. Alfred looked just like his dad, apparently. But whoever that other kid was, he looked just like Alfred. A cousin maybe? Sibling? Though it would be weird for Alfred to have a sibling and not to mention it…

Arthur sighed and lay down on the bed, careful to keep his shoes away from the sheets. It all smelled just like Alfred. It was such a wonderful scent to Arthur, really. He almost felt like he was dreaming as he sprawled out on the bedding, inhaling the smell of Alfred. It was light and slightly sweet, and God, it was intoxicating. It was heavenly to Arthur, and he found his eyes easing closed and the fuzziness of relaxation washing over him.

Arthur was not sure how long he stayed there, curled up ever so slightly, just inhaling that scent that screamed 'Alfred'. He could hear the sound of cascading water, and eventually, it stopped. Arthur's breathing had evened, and he just felt so at ease right then. However, at the sound of footsteps, he seemed to snap back into the real world. Arthur quickly sat up on the bed, scrambling, and hopped to his feet. He rushed to the window, and peeked out of it, pretending that he had been there the entire time.

"Ah… Arthur," Alfred's voice came from the doorway, and Arthur turned to look at him. All he could see was Alfred's face and neck, and the very start of his chest, which was hidden by a fluffy white towel. "Could you…uh…"

Arthur got the point without any other words. With a simple nod he turned back around, facing the window once more, giving Alfred the privacy he wanted. He began to hear the sound of drawers, the pulling and pushing of wood.

Arthur wasn't sure how long he waited, but it had been a while and silence greeted his ears. Uncertain if Alfred was still even in the room, Arthur turned his head slightly, just enough for his peripheral vision to come to his aid.

He let out a little sigh of relief, noting that the teen had dressed. However, a frown crossed Arthur's lips. Alfred was motionless in front of the mirror in his room, and there was nothing but total unhappiness in his eyes. He was holding the hem of his shirt up with one hand, the other pinching at himself. There was pure hatred in those eyes, on that rounded face, in those moving hands.

It broke Arthur's heart.

"Alfred?" he asked softly, voice practically echoing in the stillness.

The boy jumped a good few inches, quickly yanking down his shirt, mentally hoping Arthur had not seen anything. He knew he had though, and that embarrassed him more than anything. He didn't _want _Arthut to see him—

"Alfred…" Arthur's tone had changed, and now it was more concerned than anything. He was coming closer now, and Alfred's eyes were wet. He felt so stupid, he just wanted to go ahead and start crying. He backed away until he bumped into the nearest wall of his room.

Arthur stood before him with those worried green eyes, towering over him. Why did he have to be so short, it just wasn't _fair!_

"Alfred… How long have you wanted to change?" Arthur asked. His voice was gentle, and lacked judgment, but the question hit a nerve and the lump in Alfred's throat began to choke him.

"I just want to be thinner." The tears started. A hiccup jumped out of Alfred's throat. He shifted his arms, desperately trying to hide himself from Arthur's gaze. "I'd give anything to be skinny, Arthur, _anything."_

"Hey… Come on, don't cry." Alfred had slid to the floor by now, hugging his knees tightly, and just cried his little heart out. Arthur squatted down, grabbing hold of Alfred's soft arms. "Alfred, look at me. Your size doesn't define who you are."

Alfred did look at him, but Arthur could tell the teen didn't believe his words.

"If it didn't define me, Arthur, then people wouldn't make fun of me for it. People wouldn't always notice my weight first or label me because of it." Tears dripped out of those blue eyes and it felt like someone punched Arthur right in the chest. "I just want to be skinny too, but I've always been fat. And for a while I tried so hard to lose weight, but nothing _worked _and I just gave up… I can't _win _Arthur, I just can't!"

"That's quitter talk, Alfred," Arthur said, trying not to show just how much Alfred's words hurt him. He couldn't believe he had just quoted his brother, though; what was this world coming to? His grip on Alfred tightened. "You don't need to be so upset with how you look. You're not built like a pencil, Alfred. Look at your hands and wrists. You have a large bone frame; you're not going to be teeny tiny. You need meat on those bones. You're shorter, too; if you were taller your weight would be evened out, I'm sure."

Alfred let out a gasp as Arthur suddenly hugged him. A pang ran through his heart. Arthur practically crushed him in his arms.

"If you want to lose weight that badly though, Alfred, I'll try to help you. But please, don't hate yourself like that anymore." The arms around him tightened. "And just remember Alfred, no matter what, the people who care about you will always love you. Even if you were four hundred pounds, they would still care about you."

To his surprise, Arthur placed a tender kiss on his damp temple, and then just hugged him. He held Alfred while he cried, and for a split second, Alfred actually felt safe. But even then, something deep within him ached. The painful throb of loneliness throbbed in his chest, and it was then that Alfred realized just how long it had been since someone had actually been there to hold him when he needed it. He didn't want Arthur to let him go.

Once his tears dried and his chest stopped jumping with hiccups, Arthur released him. The soccer player extended a hand and helped him to his feet. And Arthur smiled at him, that same loving, gentle smile.

"Tell you what, Alfred. Let's start today."

* * *

The world was quiet. Alfred held the soccer ball in his lap as Arthur drove down the road, headed for the park.

Alfred felt more than a little embarrassed right then, unable to take his mind off of earlier events. Part of him couldn't believe Arthur had gotten him to cave like that. He wound up standing in his room without his shirt and Arthur measured him, writing down the facts on a sheet of paper. He even caved in and dragged the old electronic scale from the bathroom closet. He wiped up the dust, and finally used the blasted thing after an eternity.

Arthur wrote his weight down on the same slip of paper in big red font. They secured it to the wall with a push pin, right above Alfred's desk. There was no use trying to forget or run away then.

But even with the current situation – obviously being overweight – Alfred felt better about himself, even if it was just a little bit. He wasn't at his heaviest right now, and those twenty to twenty-five pounds Arthur told him would be good to lose…it sounded like a walk in the park. It was almost heavenly compared to the forty he needed to drop back in his freshman year.

"You sure are quiet," Arthur noted, looking away from the road briefly to look at him. He flashed a smile, and Alfred had to admit, Arthur looked much better when he did that. The brief flash of his teeth and the glimmer in his eyes made him look so young and so happy.

"Just thinking," Alfred replied, honestly. His mind was buzzing with a lot of different information right then, after all.

Arthur just nodded in response. The remainder of the drive was just as quiet as the beginning. Arthur found a parking spot and the pair clambered out of the truck; Alfred had a bit more difficulty, but he managed. He clutched the ball tightly in his arms as they began to walk across the parking lot, headed for the soccer field.

Arthur noticed that Alfred seemed distracted. He kept looking around, seeming utterly lost as he kept close to Arthur.

"What's up? You look like something is bothering you a little…"

"Ah, not…really, I guess. Just remembering things…" A smile, tiny and almost sad, inched onto Alfred's lips. "We all used to go to parks a lot…but I think the last time I've been to one was when my dad brought me here, the first day we actually moved into this city."

"Your dad?" Arthur asked, more curious than anything. He felt like he was treading on very unstable ground. Alfred never talked about his family, and earlier when Arthur asked about siblings, he had obviously hit a sensitive spot. How much questioning was too much? "Do you guys still live together, or…?"

"Yeah…" Alfred replied, his voice softer now. He seemed a little upset, so Arthur quickly backed off. However, Alfred didn't say anything else, and this pressed a little needle of concern under Arthur's skin. The pair still lived together, apparently, so the father was alive… But why was it that every time Arthur went by that house, there was no sign of life there?

Alfred was harboring secrets, and Arthur could only wonder what darker things the boy was holding in his heart.

Playing soccer with Alfred was interesting, though. Arthur had to teach him how to stretch properly, and after they jogged a lap around the field, Alfred was bright red in the face and breathing so heavily that Arthur was a bit concerned that the kid was going to faint.

But after that blew over, the two actually began to play. Arthur had to show Alfred how to kick properly and how to carry the ball down the field without tripping, but once he mastered that, Alfred actually played pretty well. Behind that clumsiness was a powerful kick and even though he lacked in speed, he had in strength.

Arthur had to admit, it was a bit of a challenge, but it was fun.

They eventually collapsed onto the grassy field, sprawled out on their backs, drenched in sweat and sunlight. Arthur was laughing, and even Alfred, normally so stoic, was letting out little giggles.

"That was fun," Arthur said, his eyes cast heavenward. The warm glow of the sun spilled over his face, and he watched the tops of the trees sway against the big blue sky. "You know, Alfred, you play pretty well."

"Really?" Alfred smiled at that, rolling his head over across the grass to look Arthur in the eye.

Arthur's heart fluttered. Alfred looked beautiful like that. His cheeks were dark and flushed, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe, his skin slightly damp with sweat. He looked so _natural, _so real, and it drove Arthur crazy. No matter how tired he looked, those blue eyes looked so alive.

"Yeah." Arthur smiled as him, and propped himself up on his elbows. "I mean, you still need a little bit of coordination to fix, but once you get the hang of that, I think you could potentially make a good defensive player."

He had never seen Alfred smile that big before.

"No one has ever really told me that I'm good at anything before…"

"Trust me, everyone has a talent." Arthur laughed, sitting up now. Alfred followed suit, that big smile on his lips, even now. "Come on, we should probably go. School tomorrow, unfortunately…"

Oh, right. Man, Alfred had completely forgotten. It was late in the day already, probably dinner time, and Alfred just then realized how hungry he was.

They traveled back to the truck in silence. Alfred held the ball loosely in his arms now, more relaxed in comparison to the initial drive. He felt better too, a little happier and – mentally – a little more carefree.

The drive home went by so fast for Alfred. Arthur kept conversing with him, and Alfred had to admit, small talk, for once, was easy to do and actually interesting.

"We'll need to do something like this again sometime," Arthur said softly, smiling, as the big truck idled in the driveway of Alfred's home.

"Yeah… Yeah, we do." Alfred agreed, smiling as he sat there. He glanced over, and there was Arthur, just staring at him, smiling softly. "It was fun, Arthur. I didn't think it would be, but it was."

"I had fun, too. You put up quite the challenge."

Neither of them moved at first. They sat there in utter silence for a moment, before Alfred started fidgeting. He felt weird. Why wasn't Arthur trying to kiss him like last time? He actually wanted those chapped lips on his again—

"Someone must be eager," Arthur said suddenly, laughing. Alfred flushed darkly, not having realized he had started leaning towards Arthur, face first. "I'm just messing with you, Alfred."

Arthur's head bent downwards, and Alfred was all too eager to accept him. Arthur's lips on his own was the trigger, and Alfred felt a rush overcome him. Relief flooded through him and his head was swimming; Arthur was like some sort of foreign drug, and Alfred's body craved a taste.

He tried to mimic what Arthur did before. The movements of Alfred's mouth were awkward, and it was then that it was alarmingly obvious just how inexperienced Alfred was in this field.

His eyes shot open when Arthur pulled his head back, and started laughing. Alfred blushed, all the way into his ears, instantly thinking he had just embarrassed himself. He turned scarlet, however, when Arthur's warm hands cupped either side of his face.

"Really, Alfred…" He was moving in again. Alfred's pulse ran wild in his chest, his cheeks bright, eyes slightly scared. "Christ, you're too cute."

Arthur's mouth was on his in an instant. At first it was so gentle and soft, and then Arthur began to actually kiss him. The feeling of Arthur's lips moving on his own drove Alfred crazy. His stomach felt so weird, and he really didn't want Arthur to stop. Moving blindly from closed eyes, Alfred did his best to kiss back.

They were like that for a while, Alfred always being the first to break for air. Arthur watched with half-lidded green eyes, studying how Alfred's untrimmed chest heaved up and down in a wild pattern. His big glasses were skewed, and nothing but in the way, so Arthur carefully removed them. Alfred barely had the chance to get his breath back before Arthur pushed their lips together all over again.

Something suddenly pressed against his mouth, and Alfred, without any prior thinking, granted it entrance. His brain was swimming right now, no breath coming or going, and he found himself melting in his seat as Arthur's tongue plunged into his mouth.

Arthur was in heaven. Alfred was a puddle right now, and Arthur had no idea why he had waited so long to kiss him like this. He felt great, almost too good; his heart was going so fast in his ribcage that Arthur was a bit afraid it was going to burst.

He detached his mouth from Alfred's, feeling the painful throb in his chest as he looked at the boy's face. Alfred's eyes were utterly glazed over, his chest heaving, a bit of spit running down his lower lip. Maybe that was what spurred Arthur to move.

Alfred let out a squeak as one of Arthur's hands, large and warm, found his collarbone.

"A-Arthur, what are you—"Alfred let out a shaky breath as Arthur's mouth found the underside of his jaw. The bigger male placed a trail of kisses down the skin and down his throat, and Alfred was positively shaking by now, eyes rolling back against his will as they closed. "A-Arthur—"

Arthur felt an ache in his stomach now. Alfred's voice was whining and breathy and soft and it was almost enough to push Arthur to the edge. He had never felt like this before in his entire life. His heart felt so swollen and his stomach ached, and never before had someone's voice sent chills down his entire spinal column like that, not even the girls he had been with before.

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat as Arthur's mouth moved south, and those lips found the base of his throat. The collar of his shirt was low, and there was Arthur, his lips just _there _and kissing and—

Oh, God. Against his own control, a moan came free from Alfred's throat.

But even with as good as it all felt, Alfred felt a little uncomfortable. Arthur was going so fast and Alfred didn't know how to keep up. He could barely keep up with the kissing, and here Arthur was, marking him up with his nibbles and nips and kisses on his skin and Alfred just didn't know what to do. He was…hell, he was kind of scared.

"A-Arthur… Arthur, stop." Alfred squirmed suddenly. He felt heavy, his mind foggy, and he was trying to fight against it. He forced his eyes opened and he found Arthur staring at him, worriedly so. Arthur, almost instantly, let go of him completely, giving him plenty of space. This was a relief; he was glad Arthur acknowledged his wants, because he already knew the teen was much bigger and stronger than him. Arthur easily could have held him down if he wanted, and that thought really scared him. "I… I just think… I don't want to upset you, I just think…"

"It's okay, Alfred. I understand, I really do." Arthur sighed softly through his nose. Shit, he was going too fast, wasn't he? Alfred looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and all Arthur could do was stare at him. He was so stunning as he sat there, he really was. Slightly sweaty, glazed eyes, red faced and panting and two huge purple bruises forming on the base of his throat… "It's okay."

Alfred smiled at him, shakily and weakly, and the teen simply turned, opening the door to the truck. He hopped out, and looked up at Arthur one last time.

"See you tomorrow, Arthur."

And with that, the door to the truck closed. Arthur sat there quietly, watching as Alfred rushed up the driveway and disappeared into his house. Alone now, Arthur released a shaky breath. What the hell had he been thinking? He was so stupid! Making the moves on Alfred like that, he was an idiot! The boy had barely any experience at all, and here Arthur was, making out with him until the boy was totally incoherent.

Arthur had to admit, he was ashamed of himself.

As he slowly began to back out of the driveway, Alfred was going up his stairs as fast as he could. He went crashing up them and threw open the door to his room. He grabbed his laptop and booted it up as fast as he could, leaping onto his bed despite his sweaty clothes.

He had to talk to Ivan, and now.

Alfred whined a bit and leaned back against the bedframe. He felt like he was covered with pins and needles. His stomach felt tight now and there were complete and utter chills running down his spine. Alfred wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was all so foreign to him, and he was a little scared. He could still feel Arthur's lips ghosting over him, kissing him until he was melting and—

Alfred offered a video call as soon as the option became available. After a mere two rings, Ivan answered his call. He must have looked a mess, because Ivan's eyebrows instantly tightened over his eyes and he leaned forward.

"What happened?"

Alfred was shaking a little, and despite needing a shower, he wrapped himself up in one of his sheets. He swallowed, feeling embarrassed as he started to tell Ivan about what had gone on earlier. How normal things were, how fun it had been, and then Arthur just showering him with attention that he didn't know how to respond to. The kissing, he had to admit, was nice at first, but the way Arthur seemed so eager to deepen their kisses and then marked him with his lips and teeth, and now he realized just how badly the hickeys on his neck were going to stick out later.

Ivan looked anything but happy when he finished his story.

"Really…" Ivan murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Alfred swallowed. "And he stop because…?"

"I… I told him to stop, and he did. I just… I feel bad… He really likes me, Ivan, and I just… I don't know yet. I liked it when he kissed me, but he started doing all that other stuff and I freaked out I guess, I just didn't know what to do…"

"You not need to feel ashamed for wanting to stop." Ivan replied softly. "I'm glad Arthur, ah…respect your choices, but even then to go so far, so fast…surprising. Very surprising."

"What should I do?" Alfred asked, his blue eyes so big and wide and Ivan just sighed, shrugging one shoulder.

"I am not sure. I'm not good with these things either. But… Watch Arthur. Be careful. He likes you, very much, but do not let him get too comfortable." Ivan sighed. "You should be able to go slow as you want. Do not let him do whatever unless you feel okay with it."

"Okay." Alfred nodded, absorbing the information like a sponge did with water.

"Do not let it keep you awake. We talk more tomorrow. Get some sleep."

Alfred nodded again, just now realizing how tired he really was. He'd probably just skip his shower and go to sleep, and just take one before class in the morning. He'd have to get up earlier, but whatever.

"Thanks, Ivan." That was all Alfred could say. He offered his best friend a smile, and disconnected the call. He powered down his laptop and threw it aside, before he simply wrapped himself up in the blankets and stared at the wall.

He knew sleep would not come easily to him tonight at all.

Miles away, Ivan closed out his own chat program, putting his computer to sleep. Ivan leaned back in his computer chair and glared at the screen, trying to think. He cracked his knuckles, loudly, before he folded his large arms across his huge chest.

And he smiled, a grin with teeth, actually laughing a bit.

He was definitely going to have a word with Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

Chapter 10: End.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Here's the next chapter! I don't really have much to say this time beside a big thank you, so I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Arthur had to admit, he didn't want to go to school. He was tempted to skip, but he knew that wouldn't work out too well. And so Monday morning was like any other weekday, with Arthur dragging himself out of bed and taking a long, hot shower while remaining half asleep. He stayed quiet, and the house did the same. Ah, the usual. Arthur knew better than to wake anyone.

The drive to school was uneventful. He would need to get some gas on the way home. That, and it had started raining, but that was all. The roads were quiet so early in the morning, which he liked. He liked it when things were like this. He liked the peace and quiet that was so very rare in the world. It was such a sharp contrast from his daily life, which was so loud and bustling and chaotic. He liked the stillness more than anything.

He found Alfred and Ivan in their usual spot, the pair talking quietly about something. Alfred was wearing a sweater with a high collar, and Arthur internally winced. Man, did he leave a mark that obvious? But… Alfred seemed to be in an okay mood. He was even smiling while he talked to Ivan, giggling every now and again about something, and that really made Arthur happy.

"G'morning…" he mumbled, still feeling really tired. There were a few responses from the other two, and Alfred looked at him, and just _smiled _at him. Arthur felt a little flutter in his chest. Before he had the chance to sit down, though, Ivan stood up, leaning across the table a little.

"Arthur, have a moment?" he asked, and the blonde paused, fingers curled about the strap of his backpack. His eyes flicked down to Alfred, who looked puzzled; obviously the boy didn't know what was going on. Arthur then looked at Ivan, and their eyes met; a chill ran down Arthur's spine. He didn't really want to talk to Ivan alone. Sure, Ivan and Alfred were friends and all, but sometimes the Russian kid just creeped him out. Arthur still needed to get to know him. But still…

"Yeah, sure…" he replied, nodding slightly. He shed his bag and left it with Alfred, before he began to follow Ivan. Alfred sat quietly, in confusion, alone at the table, watching the pair leave. Arthur looked back at him briefly, before he just focused on trailing the bigger male. Arthur swallowed as he stared at Ivan's back. It was so big and square and _man _he was tall. It was…pretty intimidating. Maybe that was why people usually left Alfred alone when the two were together…

Ivan led him into the men's restroom. His eyes did a brief scanning of the room, finding no one, and it was then that Ivan turned to face him. A chill washed over Arthur almost instantly, and he was left remembering the time Ivan cornered him at the back stairway.

"Alfred told me what happened." Ivan mumbled, and the color visibly drained from Arthur's face. "What exactly are you trying to do?"

Arthur backed up a little, despite Ivan making no move at all to touch him. He felt nervous, incredibly so, standing before such a big guy that he still knew so little about.

"I… I'm aware that I got carried away," Arthur admitted, not able to make eye contact with Ivan. The shame he felt forced him to keep his head down. "I know it'll probably sound weird to you, since you guys are friends, but to me, Alfred is just… Alfred's perfect. And for me it's… It's _hard _to keep it slow because he's…he's really a wonderful catch, you know?"

Ivan just stared at him, and Arthur could feel himself starting to sweat from nervousness. Here he was, spilling all his feelings out, just hoping Ivan would go easy on him.

"…Alfred must like you. He's spending lot of time with you. And he usually does not let people touch him, so for you to kiss him… Alfred trusts you." Ivan sighed a bit and crossed his arms. Arthur gulped a little, involuntarily shrinking down a bit. "I want Alfred to be happy, and I think what you did…it scared him."

"I know." Arthur said this softly, running a slightly freckled hand along the back of his neck. "That isn't my intention. I just…sort of got caught in the heat. I can swear to you though, I wouldn't do something to him that he didn't want."

"You'd better not. I'm giving you chance, here…" Ivan pursed his lips. Arthur let out a squeak as one of Ivan's huge hands clamped down on his shoulder. His palm was huge and square and _heavy. _Arthur felt a little scared. How was it that Alfred felt so comfortable around someone so giant? "Look. I am friend of Alfred's. Beyond that, Alfred like a brother to me. I do not want him hurt."

So that was it. The odd duo was closer than Arthur initially thought. He stood there briefly and just mulled over Ivan's words, the gears in his brain clicking wildly. His brothers, despite how often they all fought, would do anything at the end of the day to protect him. It was something family did. And that was the relationship between Ivan and Alfred at this point. Ivan just wanted to keep him safe.

"I can understand that." Arthur said honestly, offering the bigger male a smile. Ivan stood there quietly, not seeming to comprehend at first. Arthur laughed a little, feeling just a little more relaxed. "Seriously though, I promise you, you don't need to worry. I won't do anything like that. I really just… I just want to be with him. I love the kid."

Ivan's lips split into a smile at that. Arthur blinked, somewhat surprised, when the tall, bulky man offered him a hand. Arthur hesitated briefly, before he took Ivan's hand the best he could. His hand was swallowed into the pale and cold skin of Ivan's own, and the big teen gave him a hearty handshake.

"I think we can be good friends, Arthur."

And for the first time since they met, the pair genuinely smiled at one another.

Minutes passed, and Alfred had grown a little worried. He picked at his breakfast, feeling even more self-conscious now that he was alone. He didn't like being by himself. People saw him alone and that made him such an easy target. Even in the short time span that Arthur and Ivan were gone, someone had hurled an insult about his weight, and someone else about his clothes. He tried not to dwell on it, though. Words were just words, and even though they hurt so badly, they were words. He needed to try to just focus on other things. He couldn't make any progress if he kept dwelling on all the bad things.

To his surprise, when he saw Arthur and Ivan walking back toward the table, both of them were wearing smiles. This was the first time he had seen this, but Alfred had to admit, he really liked it. Seeing the two he cared about the most happy made him happy.

"Ah… Since I have the two of you here at the same time, can I ask you something?" Alfred asked, hesitance obvious in voice. Arthur and Ivan both paused, looking at him with puzzled eyes. "Um… I know I'm really bad with keeping secrets and everything, and there are lots of things I still need to tell you, but… I know I haven't told you really much to anything about my family… Um… My dad is coming back in two weeks and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come over…?"

Arthur and Ivan just stared at the boy for a moment, seeming to be thinking of how to respond. Ivan spoke first, though, and just offered a light smile in response to Alfred's nervous inquiry.

"If you would like me there, then I will be there." Ivan shrugged, arms folded and resting against the tabletop. "I was wondering when I'd get to meet family."

Wait. Ivan didn't even know about any of this? Arthur scowled deeply, a finger playing with the silver chain around his neck. Something didn't add up here. Alfred looked nothing but uncomfortable, but something in Arthur's gut was trying to get him to speak. Something was really, _really _wrong with this picture, and despite it being none of his business, Arthur know he needed to push.

"Alfred… Is your dad gone a lot?" he asked, deciding to take this slowly. "What does he do, anyway?"

"Ah… He's a businessman." Alfred answered, shrugging his shoulders, and started to look down at his lap. "He's gone a lot, yeah, sometimes for months…"

Okay, so this wasn't so bad. Alfred was answering him fine right now, so Arthur wasn't too deep in yet. But, Arthur knew if he really wanted answers, and if he really wanted this solved, he would have to dig. He would have to stab in and peel away the excess, until he hit the very bones of truth.

"I see…" he trailed off momentarily, thinking of where to go from here. Ivan was staring at him with narrowed eyes, seeming to be trying to figure out what he was doing. "How long has he been doing that?"

"His job? I don't know, I guess since I was…seven or eight." Alfred was practically talking into his lap now, and Arthur sensed he was slowly getting closer. Something caught his attention though. Seven was the age of a second grader. Didn't Alfred say something about that before…?

There was no point in beating around the bush.

"Alfred, where's your mom?" Arthur flat out asked it now. Alfred's eyes grew wide and he looked at Arthur, terrified. Ivan looked just as bewildered, obviously in shock that Arthur had stepped over that line so carelessly. "You really just stay at home alone for months like that? Don't you get lonely? Doesn't it get hard to get things done? Or to buy things?"

"It's not that difficult," Alfred muttered, now breaking all form eye contact. "He pays things while he's gone and I can put groceries on his card, and it… It works out."

He was avoiding the main question. Arthur scowled, thick eyebrows drawing inward, and he splayed his hands across the table. If he wanted to make any progress with Alfred, he needed answers.

"Alfred, where is your mother?" Arthur asked again, watching those round, slightly chubby shoulders scrunch up with discomfort. He knew he was pushing all the wrong buttons here, but he had to know. "Who is that boy hanging up on your wall? What's his name?"

"Arthur, please stop asking me questions," Alfred mumbled, obviously uncomfortable. He was shrinking down in his seat now. "Please leave me alone…"

"Not until you tell me what you're hiding!" Arthur argued, slamming his fists down on the tabletop. "You can't keep things like this pent up inside of you forever! Ivan doesn't even know about your folks and you've been friends for a long time, I'm sure! Something made you depressed when we first met Alfred, something much deeper than just boys picking on you!"

"It isn't any of your business!" Alfred was suddenly yelling back at him.

"Just fucking tell me, Alfred!" Arthur was nearly screaming. Ivan grabbed his arm tightly and squeezed, obviously trying to get him to back down and shut up, but Arthur had other plans. "Where are they?!"

Tears were welling up in those big blue eyes now, and Arthur felt the strong grip of the Russian boy tightening rapidly. Alfred cracked like an egg under the stress and pressure and just started _crying_, and Arthur couldn't stop himself from pushing as hard as he could. Ivan was probably going to snap his neck later.

"You don't want to tell us because you're afraid of weighing us down! You feel guilty when you tell people your problems, because you went so long without telling anyone _anything _at all! Your family's presence changed in your life Alfred, and it pushed you over the edge, didn't it?" Arthur asked, trying to shake Ivan off of him. "It pulled the trigger. It started all of this, didn't it? What did they do to make you the way you are now? Answer the question, Alfred!"

Despite the boy he loved turning into a blubbering mess, Arthur gave no mercy.

"T-They left me. M-Mom left after the accident and I don't know where she went. I-It's just me and dad and he's never there and I-I hate it…" It all came out in a sobbing rush. Alfred's chest was heaving and fat crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks. "M-My brother, my b-brother Matt…"

So that _was _a sibling. Arthur bit his lip, watching Alfred just cry out all the pain he had been harboring in his heart. The boy's voice started to crack and his face began to turn red as he squeezed out the crackling words he had never dared to say.

"M-Matt's dead. Matt's dead." He buried his fingers into his hair, and he _cried. _Heart wrenching sobs came spilling out of his mouth, and he just couldn't stop. "Matt's _dead_, Arthur!"

The crying had hit its peak, and the pair knew it was best to move Alfred to a more private location. It took the combined power of Arthur and Ivan to lead the sobbing boy to the bathroom. Ivan held the stall door open, and Arthur gently pushed the boy so that he was sitting down on the seat. Alfred just cried and cried, sobbing out that broken little heart of his.

Arthur squatted before him, and ran a calloused hand down one of those chubby cheeks. Alfred hiccupped loudly, violently, and uncontrollably, those eyes overflowing with tears. Arthur smiled at him gently, before he threaded his fingers softly into that soft, honey-colored hair.

"I'm sorry I pushed you too hard… I'm so sorry. We're worried about you… We want to help you. We want you to get better, Alfred. It's hard to do that when we don't know the truth." He ran his thumb across the back of Alfred's hand lovingly. "Alfred… I may not know everything that happened… But I know what it's like to miss the way things used to be. Your family is different now, and you can't change that. It hurts, but that's how it is…"

Arthur trailed off briefly, seeming to be thinking, before he sighed.

"Even if it's just you and your dad… Or… Sometimes, just you… Remember how brave you are. Remember how far you've come and how long you've held on for." Arthur gave him that tender smile, and leaned forward. "And remember that we're your family, too, and we'll always care about you."

Alfred hiccupped, letting Arthur kiss at his forehead and then rest his head on the boy's shoulder. Those arms wrapped about him so tightly, squeezing all the sadness out of him, and Alfred simply melted into them.

"I don't like you having to hold onto all those dark secrets, but… I'm not going to push you anymore. You tell me what you feel comfortable with…" Arthur mumbled this into his ear, before nuzzling the teen's shoulder. Alfred was so warm and soft. He sure was nice to hug…

Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze, and then slowly turned, finding Ivan looming over him. But to his surprise, the big teenager just slowly smiled at him. There were no words, no nothing. Ivan just gave him a small pat on the shoulder, and nothing more.

But to Arthur, that meant the world.

"I… I leave you two alone for a while." Ivan said, nodding his head two or three times. He grabbed his bag and backed out of the bathroom, giving the pair privacy.

Arthur, still hugging the boy, laughing softly. Ivan was slowly warming up to him, and it felt really nice. His breath ghosted over Alfred's ear, and the boy shuddered, squirming a little in his arms. He stopped moving soon though and they just stayed like that, enjoying the soft, tranquil company of each other.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell either of you… I'm really, really sorry…" Alfred whispered, burying his face into the crook of Arthur's neck.

"Alfred, you don't have to apologize to me. Hell, I shouldn't have pried it out of you. It was a sensitive topic and despite how badly I wanted to help, it was wrong, you know?" Arthur put a kiss on the boy's temple. "Don't apologize. I'm just… I'm glad you told us."

They didn't move at first. Arthur didn't want to at all. Alfred was entirely soft and squished in his arms, and man did he smell fantastic. A good stretch of time passed before the bell rang, and Alfred was the first to try to pull away.

"Class…" he mumbled, eyes red-rimmed from crying. Arthur smiled at him, and rolled his eyes, leaning towards him again.

"You work so hard, I don't know how you do it," he whispered, flirting with the boy a little. He placed a kiss on Alfred's lips, tender and simple. "I'll see you later. Don't overdo it. Sorry for being an asshole to you…"

"I… It's okay." Alfred admitted. In reality, it was. It was fine. He felt a little lighter now that he got that off his chest. It was one less secret to keep, and that made him happy. His friends understood, and… Well, what more could he ask for.

Arthur smiled at him, and began to straighten himself up. The soccer player took his hand for a moment to help him up, but Alfred had to admit, he didn't want Arthur to let go. His hand was so warm and strong as it gripped his own. Alfred could only imagine holding hands with Arthur, that warmth enveloping him—

Arthur let go. They stood there for a moment, in the quiet and stillness, utterly alone. Alfred could feel his pulse all of a sudden in his chest as he remained still, just looking up at the boy that stared down at him in return. He didn't want much; he just wanted to kiss, and feel Arthur's arms squeezing him tightly with hugs, as if some little reminder saying 'I'm here'.

Maybe he liked Arthur more than he initially thought.

Alfred looked to the main doorway, seeing no sign of life, and he looked back up at Arthur. His first class was at eight, and he was running out of time. But, for the first time, Alfred didn't mind the thought of being a little late.

He stood up on his tiptoes, making himself as tall as he could, but he was still too short. Arthur sighed, and smiled, and bent over. He threaded his fingers into Alfred's soft mop of blonde hair, and wrapped an arm tightly about Alfred's lower back. He knew at any moment someone could walk in on them; hell, they were standing right out in the open, but Arthur didn't care. In fact, there was quite a bit of thrill knowing he could get caught.

They took it slow and easy. Arthur had to admit, it was a nice pace. They kissed softly and lovingly, a gentle bumping of lips, a delicate touching of skin. Alfred wrapped his arms about Arthur's neck, and Arthur's arm tightened about that little waist. They bumped noses, Alfred giggling softly, and Arthur kissed along the underside of the boy's jaw lovingly.

Gone was the fuel of lust that Arthur previously harbored. Of course, it still was buried within his heart, but presently, he didn't feel any of that. He felt a simple satisfaction with just giving the boy his love.

Alfred was so cute. Arthur found himself smiling absently as he nibbled playfully on the boy's ear, those little giggles being the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He could smell Alfred so clearly, able to feel him as he kept that hand wrapped about the boy. His hips were surprisingly slender, though padded with a soft layer of fat, and Arthur threaded a finger in the boy's belt loop to hold onto him. He placed a few kisses down his neck, nuzzling him, careful of the sensitive areas of bruising due to Arthur previously marking him. He found Alfred's lips waiting for him, and they simply bumped instead of crashing, sharing nothing but contact. Alfred's soft lips were like his own little oasis, and Alfred too found himself slowly melting, finding heaven in the one who kissed him.

"I'm so glad you gave me a chance, Alfred," Arthur whispered, right before the boy's mouth. He smiled, moving his lips against Alfred's one more time, intoxicated as the boy pressed up against him. "I love you…"

Alfred paused, thinking long and hard for a moment, letting those lips ghost over him. He had to admit, he was pondering how he felt more and more these days. He had realized how special he felt around this kid, how often he craved Arthur's arms and kisses and voice… And he understood how much more he wanted, too. He wanted to know what Arthur's hands felt like, wanted them to hold onto his. He wanted to kiss Arthur, and he really wondered how Arthur slept, how Arthur acted at home, how Arthur did different hobbies. He wanted to know more about Arthur.

"I… I think…" Alfred started, swallowing nervously. "I-I think I love you too."

And for Arthur, that was so much more than he had been expecting. It meant the world to him to hear those words. With a grin he clamped down on Alfred's mouth all over again, just holding him and kissing him and God he didn't want to stop.

The late bell startled them both out of their thoughts. Alfred pulled away first, those somewhat chubby cheeks a dusty red. Alfred just stared at him at first, breathing heavily, and then, he smiled. Arthur was a tad surprised as the boy's lips suddenly split into a huge grin, and Alfred grabbed him in a tight hug around the middle.

"Thanks, Arthur." That was all the boy said. Arthur had to admit, he didn't really know why Alfred was thanking him, but hey, as long as the boy was happy. He looked so much more beautiful when he smiled, really… "I'll see you later."

Before Arthur had a chance to react, Alfred grabbed his bag, and started to rush for the door. Of course he did, Arthur should have guessed that. Alfred cared a lot more about school than he did, after all.

Arthur glanced into one of the mirrors above the bathroom sink, and found himself smiling. Even after Alfred had cried, even after Arthur yanked out one of his deepest secrets…things still seemed okay. They were okay. Life was okay.

Arthur laughed. Even with the drama, they were still hanging on. Maybe their budding relationship could actually work out. He smiled as he looked into the mirror, combing out his fluffy hair with his fingers. The thought of that made him really happy; there was just some trouble he needed to avoid first.

"Just make it through today, Kirkland." Arthur told himself, grabbing the strap of discarded bag. He headed for the main doorway of the restroom, and turned the corner. He was in no real hurry. He would make it to class when he made it. "Just make it through today."

Absorbed into his own world, Arthur never noticed the figure perched just around the corner of the bathroom, using the lighting and crevice as an advantage. A pale hand closed the LED screen of a video camera, and Gilbert simply shook his head. He crammed the camera down into his backpack, and hurried off to his own class.

He had all the evidence he needed.

* * *

Things went surprisingly well for the next few days. The three of them had been getting along nicely, learning small things about each other in the process. Arthur was just grateful that they all seemed to be friends now. After all, the tension between him and Ivan initially was enough to strangle him.

Things were running so smoothly. Arthur's old trio of friends had barely even looked at him, and it was a little unnerving, but there was no way that Arthur was complaining.

Still, there was something that was bothering him. His grades.

School hadn't been in _that _long, he knew, maybe a month or two now. There was plenty of time to pull his grades up, but he was worried. He had never been an all A student or anything, but he did get okay grades. But something was wrong. Here he was pulling out D's more and more often now, and it really bothered him. He was even failing some assignments in his core classes, and after checking his grades a few days ago, he really felt bad about himself. He thought he had decent intelligence, but…

"Arthur, are you okay?" Alfred asked him at lunch that Friday afternoon. Arthur picked his head up, having been staring emptily into his food, obviously down about something. Even Ivan looked a bit concerned for him. "You look kinda upset…"

Arthur shrugged his shoulders a little. He felt like someone punched him in the gut. He felt…hell, he felt downright stupid. He was failing things he thought he was good at, and it was like a slap in the face.

"It's… It's dumb, really." Arthur mumbled, unable to make eye contact with Alfred. The boy was so smart. Alfred made such good grades; he was in such great and advanced classes, and here Arthur was, struggling in regular classes. He felt so idiotic. "It's just… My grades are slipping right now…"

"How badly?" Alfred asked, blonde eyebrows knitting together tightly.

"I'm… I'm barely passing my assignments right now… I failed a test that I thought I was going to do well on…" Arthur's voice was uncharacteristically soft. This was surprising for both boys; Arthur was usually so direct. This was obviously taking a toll on him. "I-I'm three points away from failing in math right now, and all my other grades are going down too. The only decent grade I have right now is in gym…"

Arthur swallowed roughly. For a split second he was afraid he was going to cry. If his folks found out about this, he was dead. Quite possibly, literally.

"Ah… I can tutor you, if you would like." Alfred offered.

Arthur blinked at those words, his head jerking up so that he could look Alfred in the eyes. There was no judgment within them or on that rounded face, and Arthur felt a little relieved. Ivan just stared at him, but Arthur couldn't sense anything emitting from him either.

"I… I would appreciate that very much." Arthur said honestly, his lips forcing up and into a small smile. "When would you like to…?"

"Well… It's Friday. We could do it tonight, if you want." Alfred smiled a little bit. "We could do it at my place. Ivan, you could come over too if you'd like."

Ivan smiled a little himself, but shook his head. "Like to, but I can't. Other plans with family."

"Okay. Well, Arthur, looks like it's just up to you now. You're free to come over if you'd like. You could stay the night too, I don't care. But, hey, I mean, if you'd rather do it at your place, we could do that—"

"No," Arthur interjected quickly. He spoke almost too fast, and he seemed suddenly nervous. Alfred caught onto that almost instantly, noting the change in behavior. "No, your place would probably work better. I'd just… I'd just have to swing by my place real quick to grab one of my textbooks, and then we could go to your place."

Alfred hesitated, but agreed to it. He didn't understand why they would go all the way to Arthur's place to grab a book, then go back to Alfred's, but hey, whatever worked… But even so, Arthur sure did act strangely once his home life was mentioned. He seemed…skittish about it.

Something seemed wrong.

There was something Arthur was trying to keep a secret, and Alfred wasn't sure how to respond to that thought. Alfred keeping a secret seemed to make Arthur upset, so wasn't it a bit hypocritical for Arthur to try to hide something…?

"Ivan, I can give you a ride home too if you want." Arthur offered, seeming all too eager to change the subject.

"Ah… That'd be nice."

"Okay, so I guess you can meet us out in the parking lot. Since Alfred and I have the last class together, we'll probably just come out at the same time, and meet you there—"

Alfred frowned a bit, glancing over at Arthur. He felt confused, and even a little betrayed. Why wasn't Arthur telling them what was going on?

Well, whatever. He'd have to make sure to go inside when they got to Arthur's house. He needed to get to the bottom of this, whether Arthur liked it or not.

He had to.

* * *

Chapter 11: End.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hello again! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Anyway, here's the next chapter! Please note there's a small warning in this chapter for abusive behavior. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

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Ivan had been dropped off at home, and here they were, sitting in Arthur's truck as it bumped along the pavement. There was an awkward silence, and Alfred really didn't know what to say. All he knew right now was that Arthur was nervous about something. He kept squirming around in his seat, one hand coming off the wheel to play with the chain of his necklace.

"Arthur…" Alfred started softly, looking over at the other now. Arthur kept his eyes firmly on the road. "Why are you so scared to have me over at your house? Ever since it came up, you've been acting really…skittish."

Arthur bit down hard on his lower lip, obviously trying to think of how to answer.

"I just… Why don't you want me there?" Alfred asked, the truck slowing down now. It bumped into a driveway and came to a stop, and Alfred took a glance at the house. It was absolutely beautiful from the outside, not to mention the neighborhood it was in was amazingly upscale. "Arthur…"

"Look, Alfred… I know it probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but you don't want to meet my family." Arthur said at last, taking off his seatbelt. He bit down on his lip again, staring at the front of his house silently. Finally, he sighed, and opened the door, hopping out of the truck. "Just wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Before he had the chance to close the door, Alfred had flung his open, and clambered out. Arthur just stared at him in bewilderment at first, before his eyes narrowed.

"I told you to wait here."

"I'm coming with you, Arthur." Alfred said, and for once, his voice was stern. "I want to know what you're not telling me. Something is wrong, and it's something you feel so bad about you don't want me to see it… I want to help, too."

"Whatever. Don't say I didn't warn you. And if my dad speaks to you, don't answer him." Arthur slammed the door to his truck, and led the boy towards the house. "And here, we're just friends, got it?"

Alfred frowned. Arthur's shift in attitude and behavior concerned him greatly, but he simply nodded, not sure what to expect now.

They made it up the driveway without any problems, though Arthur seemed to hesitate at the front door. He didn't seem to want to go inside. His hand was shaking on the doorknob, but after a moment, he seemed to find the courage to twist it, and push the door open.

They stepped inside, and Arthur quietly closed the door behind them. The first thing Alfred noticed was an overpowering stench of alcohol. The entranceway led to the living room, where Arthur was leading him, and Alfred looked around quickly as they hurried through. There were beer bottles all over the floor, and Alfred noticed a man slumped down on the couch. His shoulders were huge despite being slumped, and his face was rugged and hairy, marked by a red, red beard. His hair was the same color and so were his eyebrows, which were even larger than Arthur's.

Alfred swallowed. The guy was huge, probably a little bigger than Ivan if he was to stand up properly. He was built like a skyscraper, tall and wide, though Alfred noticed majority of his weight was settled in his stomach, probably from all the beer—

"What are you fucking gawking at?!" The man's gaze broke from the television, bloody red, to lock onto Alfred. Upon realizing he had never seen the boy before, his eyes – a dark, mean green – found Arthur. "I didn't say you could bring anyone over here!"

"I didn't ask you if I could!" Arthur had to shout over the television, and he stepped forward a little, trying to keep Alfred behind him. The living room was dim, no lights on at all, just the off-blue glow emitting from the TV. "He's only going to be here for a second!"

"I don't know who you think you're raising your voice at, you little shit!" The man was standing up now, and Alfred gulped, realizing now just how big the redhead actually was.

Without any further hesitation, Arthur grabbed Alfred by the hand, and ran. He tore up the stairs as fast as his legs could take him, and Alfred could barely keep up. Though, he had to admit, he was relieved when he turned and glanced at the staircase to find that the man was not following them. He could hear the man screaming at the top of his lungs though, nothing but curses at Arthur, and it made Alfred's skin crawl.

Alfred kept quiet, knowing now was not the time to say anything.

Arthur's room was the last on the right. Before they made it to the end of the hall, Arthur stopped in front of one of the doors, and carefully pushed it open. It creaked softly in objection at the force.

Alfred peered around Arthur. It was quiet within the room, a small table set up in the center. There were a few mannequins set up near the corner, lightly draped with fabric. Honestly, Alfred had never seen so much fabric before. It was stacked up on a bookshelf near the opposite wall, and strips of it cut into patterns sat upon the little table. At the small table sat a little woman with long red hair, her hands busy as she pushed fabric along beneath the needle of the sewing machine.

"Ah…" Arthur cleared his throat, knocking on the door gently. "Mom?"

The woman lifted her head, and Alfred inhaled sharply. Arthur looked so much like his mother in the face, and they had the same shape and shade of eyes. But what caught Alfred's attention the most was the dark purple bruises lining the woman's face and fingerprints marking her arms. She seemed to take notice of Alfred, and offered him a smile that looked so weak and forced.

"Mom, this is Alfred…" Arthur said through the gap of the door, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the frame. "I'm gonna head over to his place to study, okay?"

"Hello, Alfred." She had a very soft voice, but Alfred knew something was wrong. She seemed… God, she seemed so broken. She lowered her head and simply went back to working on her sewing. "Have fun, dear."

Arthur visibly hesitated. He seemed like he wanted to say something, do something, but he did nothing. Instead with shaking hands he closed the door and they continued to walk, and Alfred only then noticed how low Arthur's head was.

They passed an open door and Alfred peeked inside, spotting a lanky body swathed in the bed sheets. He was clad in nothing but a pair of boxers and was facing the wall, snoring loudly despite it being almost four in the afternoon. Alfred couldn't see his face, but he could see the mop of bright red hair and a few earrings in the exposed ear. There was a pack of lighters on the side table, and Alfred swallowed as he saw tons of empty packs of Marlboro cigarettes scattered across the carpet.

At last, they made it to Arthur's room. They entered, and Alfred jumped as Arthur roughly slammed the door behind them. A cat awoke, startled, on Arthur's bed, and started meowing loudly.

"I told you that you didn't want to meet them." Arthur muttered, moving across the room now. Alfred sat down slowly on the bed, stroking the cat, and watched Arthur. His room looked pretty empty. Sure, he had a desk and a dresser, but Arthur didn't seem to have a whole ton of possessions. The walls looked naked, there wasn't much inside the open closet or on top of the desk. It was…so empty.

Alfred swallowed, unable to make eye contact with Arthur. This was…it was really unlike anything he had seen before. A man who was obviously verbally and physically abusive, a woman who had totally given up, an older brother addicted to tobacco…

Alfred looked at Arthur for a moment, and for a split second, Arthur seemed so tiny. He was weak and helpless behind those fronts he put up so often. At school he was so straightforward, so headstrong, so vocal and brave… And here, in his house, it mirrored Arthur perfectly: strong on the outside, but utterly damaged on the inside.

Arthur Kirkland was actually terrified to be alive.

Arthur suddenly let out a strangled hiccup, and Alfred looked up, concern etched across his features. A heavy psychology book came hurtling in his direction as Arthur threw it carelessly onto the bed. Alfred bit down hard on his lower lip as he stared at the soccer player. He had buried his fingers into his hair, his back hunched slightly, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed like he was so close to crying, but he was trying to hold it.

"Arthur… If you need to cry, then cry…" Alfred said softly, watching as the boy started shaking violently, hiccups forcing their way out of his throat despite no tears falling. "Let it out…"

"I don't _need _to cry!" Arthur suddenly yelled, not daring to open his eyes. "I need everything to stop fucking up in my life, that's what I need!"

The first tear fell. A pathetic little wail came out of Arthur's mouth, and Alfred felt a pang run through his heart. Arthur's expression was nothing but pure agony, his eyebrows upturned and eyes squeezed shut so tightly, mouth just open as tears slowly squeezed out, running down his cheeks.

Alfred had never seen something so sad.

They were angry tears, and Alfred could tell. Arthur's eyebrows knitted over his eyes after a few moments and he dared to force his eyes open, hiccupping and crying as he started just pounding away at his mattress with his fists. Alfred kept his distance, instead just letting Arthur get out the emotion he was keeping inside of him. He watched in silence as Arthur went endlessly, smashing empty fists against his bed, over and over until he was sweating, his arms shaking, tears rolling off his cheeks and into the mess of bed sheets.

"I hate him," Arthur suddenly snarled, a shallow thud sounding as his knuckles plowed hard into the mattress. "I fucking _hate _him!"

He kept going until his limbs refused to cooperate anymore. Arthur panted loudly, chest heaving, sweat and tears trailing down his face. Shaking violently, Arthur slowly sank down onto the bed, a strangled little hiccup sounding from deep within his chest.

"It's not even just all that you saw," Arthur muttered, grabbing the psychology book. "He's too busy drinking all the time to go to work. He hasn't worked on a single court case in months now. Mom's working twice as hard to try to make money but it isn't enough… She can't support us on her own…"

Arthur trailed off now, staring blankly at the textbook in his hands.

Alfred sat there quietly. With how big Arthur's father was, Alfred could easily understand now why Arthur had been so skittish around Ivan. He had no idea what to say though, so he sat there, mute. What _could _he say? There were no words that could fix this mess, but…

Arthur jumped as a set of arms suddenly wrapped about him tightly. Alfred hugged him from behind, his soft arms coiled about his midsection. Alfred buried his face into the crook of his neck and just squeezed him tightly.

"I'm sorry…" Alfred mumbled, holding on just a little tighter. He had no idea this was what Arthur was hiding. For someone who had his own problems, his own darkness living right on heels, Arthur always seemed so eager to help others. He liked being someone's hero, and Alfred now realized that it was because Arthur knew what it was like to not have one. "I'm really sorry."

It took a moment, but Arthur relaxed in the embrace. He sighed softly, rubbing his itchy eyes as he sat there. He swiveled a little, eyes kept on the door, before he placed a tiny little kiss on Alfred's lips. "It's fine, Alfred. You didn't know. It's not your fault."

There was a crash downstairs, and Arthur sighed a bit as the sound of a man's voice came bellowing up through the floorboards. He could hear the door down the hall opening, knowing his mother was going downstairs to try to tend to the mess. Arthur visibly tensed up as the sound of verbal abuse echoed up the stairs. A sharp crack, a scream, and it was then Arthur jumped up, book in hand.

"Come on." Arthur said this quickly, obviously just wanting to get out of the house. Alfred stood up at that, nervously. They had to go back through the living room to leave, didn't they?

And to Alfred, leaving was worse than getting inside. Arthur led the way, gingerly holding Alfred's hand. Alfred studied the boy, watching his chest move with uneven, anxious breaths, and his palm was sweaty as Alfred held onto it. They stood perched at the top of the stairs for what felt like hours to Alfred, before Arthur spurred the both of them to move.

Arthur didn't look as he made a beeline for the door. Something in Alfred's gut tried to get him to glance over, but the sound of crying and fists hitting flesh made him think otherwise. Arthur practically sprinted out to the truck, and hopped into it, starting it. Alfred climbed in as fast as he could, though he still struggled a little. There were no words as Arthur sped off from the house.

The silence between them was thick and heavy.

"Arthur… How long has he…?" he asked, trailing off slightly. "Why don't you guys leave…?"

"I don't know. He's always had a drinking problem, but this is the worst I've ever seen it. A year now, I guess, though he's always screamed at us." Arthur said this in a tone that matched someone talking about the weather. It made Alfred queasy. Arthur was practically treating the situation as if it was nothing. "I wish leaving was that simple, Alfred. Mom's given up entirely, I think. I doubt she'd survive on her own. My brother, the oldest one you saw in there that was asleep, he works late and goes to school at night, and really, I think if he left her alone completely, mom would probably kill herself."

A chill ran down Alfred's spine.

"We talked about it… We don't really know what to do. My other two brothers are off to school right now, and this coming fall I'll be gone too… I think my oldest brother has only a year or two left on his master's and then he's gone. So she's either going to be alone with my dad, or if she manages to leave, completely alone…" Arthur sighed, and Alfred could see how the situation was completely weighing him down. "Either way, it's not good… I just don't know what to do, Alfred."

"…Maybe she could move in with another family member?" Alfred asked.

"You do realize that all my family lives over in England, right…?" Arthur replied, an eyebrow quirking as he stared out at the road. "Alfred, we just don't have that kind of money right now—"

"We could pay for it." Alfred interrupted. Arthur looked at him as if he was crazy, and then busted out laughing. "No, Arthur, seriously! Me and my dad could help you out with it—"

"Alfred, with all of those expenses, that kind of travel and then living arrangement would be well over a couple grand. There's no way in hell I could take that kind of crash off of you guys."

The conversation dropped, but it had not left Alfred's mind. Silence settled between them again. Alfred couldn't keep his mind off of what he had seen. It looked like hell. It was no wonder Arthur always went home late and didn't get a whole lot of sleep… And despite knowing that Arthur didn't like talking about his family – for obvious reasons that Alfred now knew – Alfred had to ask something.

"Ah… Hey, Arthur?" he asked, waiting for the boy to raise his eyebrows to show he was listening. "Your two brothers in college, do they have red hair too?"

"Yeah. Well, the older one, his hair is more…hm…it's kinda got brown undertones, so it looks more coppery, but yeah, it's red." Arthur grinned a bit. "The other one is just…he's got the reddest hair you've ever seen and freckles literally everywhere. Most of our family just has light patches, but I swear, he's got them _everywhere."_

"Okay, so if everyone is a redhead… Why are you a blonde?" Alfred asked, sounding genuinely curious. He hoped he wasn't being too insensitive or asking anything too personal.

To his surprise, Arthur suddenly busted a gut laughing.

"You know, no one has ever asked me that. Francis and the others even met my brothers before and I think it went right over their heads." Arthur was smiling, and Alfred let out a breath of relief. Not only was the boy in a little better of a mood, but he hadn't pushed a button too hard. "Well… Between you and me, I'm a redhead too. Naturally, anyway."

He pulled his fingers through his bangs absently and shrugged his shoulders.

"I actually have…really deep red hair. But I didn't like it on me. I thought it made me look really washed out and sickly, honestly. So I dyed it blonde." Arthur smiled. "Honestly, I think I look better this way. It's kinda… Well, it's weird, because sometimes I forget I'm actually a redhead with freckles, too. All I kinda see myself as now is a blonde-headed soccer player. But that's okay. I like myself better this way."

"As long as you're happy, then that's all that matters, right?"

"Right." Arthur laughed a little bit. "Getting it to lighten to a natural looking color was a pain in the ass, but hey. Plus they had to do my eyebrows and that's a totally different story."

The atmosphere seemed lighter now, and Alfred had to admit, he was thankful for that.

They bumped along in Arthur's truck for a while, before they finally pulled into Alfred's driveway. Arthur swiveled around in the truck, grabbing their backpacks from the backseat of the cabin. He handed Alfred his before he leapt out of the truck, shrugging his own bag onto his back.

They entered Alfred's quiet home. They left their shoes by the front door, and traveled up to Alfred's room. They used his bed as a big desk, opening up textbooks and notebooks and lugging out pencils. Arthur was enrolled in classes Alfred had already taken, and despite it being a while, he seemed to remember everything as if he had completed it yesterday. Pre-calculus seemed so much easier to Alfred now that he was in regular calculus; but Arthur obviously didn't have a brain that absorbed math so easily. He struggled and struggled, and it took Alfred quite a while to explain certain things.

But nothing felt better to him than seeing Arthur's face light up once he finally did understand.

Arthur seemed to have an okay grasp of psychology, though there were some concepts he was stumbling over. History was the same; the current chapter they were working on seemed to be giving the most problems.

They worked and worked and by the time they took a break, it had grown pitch black outside. Arthur's stomach growled obnoxiously loud, and he sighed, flopping down on Alfred's bed. Alfred actually laughed a bit at that, pushing one of the books aside.

"Well, I mean, we _have _been working a while… I can cook dinner for us, if you want." Alfred offered. "Anything in particular you want?"

"Nah. Whatever you want," Arthur responded, rolling onto his front as Alfred stood up from the bed. "Just nothing with tomatoes. I'm allergic."

"Seriously?" Alfred asked, giggling a little as he headed downstairs. Arthur followed him. "How allergic are we talking?"

"Not like, deathly or anything, but it makes me get these stupid red bumps all over." Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. "And it's only with regular old tomatoes. Like I can eat ketchup or tomato sauce, but… Yeah."

"That's so weird."

"Tell me about it." The pair wound up in the kitchen, and Arthur stood there, leaning against the counter and just watching Alfred work. He seemed at peace when he cooked, Arthur noted. He began looking in one of the cabinets, pulling out pans and spoons and all else. Alfred wandered over to the fridge, and Arthur simply watched him. "What about you? Anything you're allergic to, food-wise?"

"Ah… No, not that I know of." Alfred said, pulling some ingredients out of the refrigerator. "Though after I got food poisoning from some bad oysters, I don't eat those anymore."

"Oh, that blows." Arthur murmured, watching Alfred.

The boy seemed to know what he was doing, although Arthur had to admit, he wasn't quite sure of what was going on. He could never really cook that well. But Alfred seemed…_good. _He barely even blinked as he mixed things up, and Arthur just stood there, not quite sure of what he was making. Whatever it was, it didn't look too good unprepared, a mix of chicken and ham and vegetables. But, he knew better than to try to judge.

Alfred was humming something as he stood as the sink, washing out a few of the dishes he had used. He seemed to be in key as he scrubbed at the dishes, swaying his hips absently. Man… Arthur hadn't even noticed how nicely shaped Alfred was. He had those slender hips but Alfred did have a pretty curvy rear, especially for a male. That was it. Alfred had curves, and Arthur had to admit, it drove him crazy. Sure, he had been with skinny girls, but for someone like Alfred, the extra padding just seemed to fit him.

Even so, if Alfred wanted to be skinnier, Arthur wouldn't stop him.

Alfred finished cleaning up the kitchen, and now they just had to wait. They sat down next to each other on the couch, just becoming absorbed into the television, watching some movie Arthur had never heard of. He glanced over at Alfred, the teen seeming to be absorbed in the program. Arthur didn't really care about it, but hey.

Without saying anything, Arthur scooted over and rested his head on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred blinked, glancing at him for a split second, letting out a little squeak as one of Arthur's arms snaked about him.

"Does this count as a date?" Arthur asked, the dopey grin on his lips showing that he was joking. He leaned over, putting a little kiss on Alfred's lips. "Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome," Alfred murmured, turning a little red at the peck. He smiled a little, nuzzling at Arthur. "It's funny, actually. You don't seem like the guy that's all affectionate, but you are…"

"Yeah, well, you don't seem like the guy that likes having all this attention, but you so do, don't ya?" Arthur asked, teasing him. Before Alfred had the chance to answer, Arthur sat up a little, the fingers of one calloused hand caressing that soft face. His thumb trailed across a cheek, fingers residing just behind an ear, gently touching threads of blonde hair. Alfred just smiled at him, shyly, and Arthur actually laughed, putting a kiss on those soft lips.

The television was simply background noise now, and the pair sat perched before it, not watching it. Alfred had closed the distance, now perched in Arthur's lap, those sun-kissed arms wrapped loosely about Arthur's neck. They sat like that for a while, just enjoying each other's company. They shared little kisses, Arthur gingerly but lovingly claiming those lips with his own. He was a little surprised to find Alfred smiling against him as they kissed, and it wasn't long before the both of them were laughing. Arthur kissed at Alfred's jaw, purposefully pecking at the underside just to hear those little giggles that Alfred let out every time. After a few more pecks, Alfred buried his face into the crook of Arthur's neck.

The soccer player just cuddled him, a hand settled on his lower back, nose buried in that soft hair, feeling Alfred breathing. It was peaceful, warm; Arthur had slid his hand up and was just rubbing the boy's spine, able to feel the little knots of his vertebrae if he pressed just right, and tiny arches of stress in his back. He began to knead into his back with his knuckles to get out the kinks and Alfred melted against him, sighing lovingly into his collarbone. Warm breath ghosted over his neck, and Arthur let out a content sigh of his own, putting little kisses on the top of Alfred's skull.

They sat there for a long time, just wrapped up in each other. Arthur felt like he was dreaming. He hadn't felt so calm or relaxed in ages.

The sound of the stove timer brought the both of them back to earth. Arthur let out a reluctant groan, wrapping his arms tightly about Alfred in objection. The junior started laughing a bit, shifting slightly, before he managed to clamber off of Arthur, and headed into the kitchen.

Arthur watched him, smiling absently to himself. Man, was he lucky.

Arthur heaved himself to his feet, trailing the boy. Alfred gave him a bowl, and got one for himself, before they sat down at the little table in the dining room. Arthur inspected the meal again. It looked a lot better now, a bit of steam coming off of it. Still, he didn't quite know what it was… There was bread in his now, too.

"I think most people just call it chicken and biscuits or something, but I usually put ham in mine too, so I have no idea what to call it." Alfred laughed a little, as if he had just read Arthur's mind. Arthur noticed Alfred's bowl lacked bread, and had a lot more vegetables in it. He must have been taking this losing weight thing pretty seriously, huh… "It's a pretty easy thing to make but it's probably one of my favorite things to eat."

Arthur blinked, and took a bite of it. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but really, it was much better than he thought it was going to be.

"Why didn't you tell me you could cook this well?" Arthur asked, mainly focusing on his food now. "I'm serious, Alfred, you're good!"

"Ah, thanks," he replied, blushing a little at the compliment. He was so unaccustomed to praise that it embarrassed him a little. "I just kinda taught myself, trial and error… But, regardless, feel free to help yourself, I made a lot."

They ate in silence, sans the faint sound of the television running in the other room. Alfred had to admit, he was a bit surprised by how Arthur ate. He hadn't seen someone put food away that fast, especially someone as skinny as Arthur.

"Hey… Arthur?" Alfred asked, getting up for a moment to get Arthur another bowl and another glass of water for himself. "What kind of stuff do you guys usually eat at home?"

"Well… I'll admit, I'm not a very good cook. Mom used to do the cooking but she doesn't anymore, so everyone usually just fends for themselves…" Arthur shrugged. "We eat a lot of frozen stuff at my house, or fast food…"

Alfred blinked at that answer. Wait a minute. So here Arthur was, eating that school food twice a day – which Alfred knew already was pretty terrible for you – and then went home and ate nothing but frozen food or takeout?

If that wasn't unhealthy, Alfred didn't know what was.

"Arthur…" Alfred started, putting the bowl down in front of Arthur. "When was the last time you actually…you know, had _real _food? Like, a home cooked meal…?"

"Uh…" Arthur started, staring down at the bowl for a moment in thought. He didn't seem to be upset or concerned with the topic, it seemed to be something so casual to Arthur. "I don't know. It's probably been a couple years."

It felt like someone slapped Alfred across the face.

They fell into silence again. Alfred just let Arthur eat as much as he wanted, no ands, ifs, or buts about it. The kid ate like he was starving to death, and something heavy settled in Alfred's chest. It was sad. It was pathetic that someone who came from a family that used to be so high class was rapidly going broke and was falling apart at the seams.

It made Alfred's heart hurt.

Arthur helped him do the dishes, and they went upstairs, crashing on Alfred's bed. Arthur had forgotten his toothbrush at home, so Alfred let him have the unopened spare he had gotten from his last dentist visit. He hadn't packed any pajamas, so Arthur just crashed in his regular clothes, not caring too much about it. Alfred took a moment to change into his, which was a simple t-shirt and plaid pants, and he crawled into bed. Arthur's books were scattered across the floor, and he had to be careful not to trip over anything.

Alfred had to admit, it felt weird to share a bed, but it wasn't terrible. In fact, having someone else there for once felt a little nice. It felt even better when Arthur, sprawled out on his back, wrapped an arm about his shoulders, and pulled him over. Alfred let out a little yelp as Arthur wrangled him down, and Alfred found himself using Arthur as a pillow. His head was perched atop his chest, Arthur's arm wrapped about his shoulders. He could hear Arthur's pulse echoing softly in his chest.

"Ugh, damn you and your cooking, Alfred," Arthur muttered, squirming on the bed a little. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"If you hadn't eaten half your body weight, you wouldn't feel like that," Alfred teased, smiling as Arthur flicked him on the forehead.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Arthur mumbled, laughing a little in the darkness. Alfred chuckled softly, and Arthur felt him moving in the dark. His head was perched on his chest, and Arthur just sat there, listening and waiting.

Alfred eventually fell asleep, and Arthur could tell by the change in breathing pattern. Alfred had curled up in his sleep. His head was still residing on Arthur's chest, but now his arms were securing around the soccer player's waist. One leg wrapped about Arthur's, and Alfred just snored softly, drooling a little on Arthur's shirt.

Arthur smiled absently. He wished he could see him sleeping. Arthur knew he probably looked adorable; he always did. He ran a hand down the back of Alfred's head, feeling that soft hair. He felt those round, squishy shoulders, that soft back with the achy spine, those padded little hips. His chest was soft, and Arthur eventually let his hand come to rest on top of Alfred's stomach, knowing the boy would never let him touch it if he was awake. But God, Alfred was like a giant teddy bear. There was plenty of him to hug in his arms; he was soft and lovable and Arthur didn't want to let go of him.

Arthur shifted, pulling Alfred closer, and kissed the top of his head. He simply put his head down on the pillow, smiling, and let sleep carry him away.

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Chapter 12: End.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hey! Here's the next chapter for you guys! As always, it's wonderful to hear you're enjoying how the story is going. Not a whole lot to say, so I'll be quiet and let you guys read! Small warning in this chapter though for slurs/derogatory terms. Enjoy!

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The days melted away. Arthur had to admit, he didn't want to go home that Saturday. Alfred's home may have been awkwardly quiet and deserted, but it was peaceful there. There was no chaos, no screaming or hitting or anything else. No, there, it was just him and Alfred. Just him and Alfred laughing, kissing, cuddling, playing games, watching movies, and studying together. Arthur liked it better that way. It was nicer, more relaxing, and the fact Alfred kept him so well fed was a bonus. He knew he was going to wind up putting on a few pounds if he spent a few more days there.

But the weekend was gone, and it had been miserable, like it was every week. Monday morning he crawled out of bed, like every Monday. However, walking into the school that Monday…Arthur knew it was no ordinary Monday.

Everyone was staring at him. Arthur, out of instinct, looked down at himself, suspecting he had done something stupid. Maybe it was something he was wearing, but no, he looked fine. He had combed out his hair, taken a nice hot shower… So what…?

A group of boys walked past him, looking him up and down. Arthur smiled at them, but it quickly faded when he noticed the scrunched up noses and judgmental eyes. And then he heard it.

"Morning, faggot. Where's your boy toy?"

Arthur's world stopped spinning. The world froze, and Arthur suddenly could not breathe. No. No, no, _no! _They knew. If they knew, who else knew?! It felt like his whole world was crumbling around him now, and Arthur couldn't breathe, the dust smothering his lungs.

Arthur swallowed, trying to say something, but nothing came out.

The group of boys stopped, and they were suddenly howling with laughter at him. Arthur shrank down, backed up against the wall, as one of them slapped him hard against the back. Oh, God, this wasn't happening—

"So, I have to ask. You really couldn't have picked someone better than him? So let's see, not only do you like dick, but you picked the dorkiest little shit in the school?" Someone pushed him, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to listen. "_And _you pick the fucking bathroom to make out? Really? God, you make me sick. You were all over him, you may as well have fucked him in there!"

This wasn't happening, this wasn't _happening! _Without words, Arthur pushed his way through the crowd, and took off in a run. Alfred, he had to find Alfred.

His nightmare was a reality. He could hear people screaming at him, the insults and slurs being thrown at him. Someone tried to trip him, and Arthur felt an ache in his chest. His life was literally crumbling into dust. Even his reputation was gone. What did he have now?

How did they know? How did the whole damn school know about him and Alfred? They had been so careful so far, walking on eggshells, so scared to even breathe in the same proximity of each other. Their only slip was that little make out in the bathroom, but… Who could have seen them? Class had started then. No one walked in on them, so someone had to have been spying. They had to have told the entire school and—

Gilbert. It was like a slap across the face to Arthur, and he froze in his tracks. Gilbert, he had to find Gilbert. Arthur curled his hands into fists. That piece of _shit. _Oh, Arthur was going to kill him.

Meanwhile, Arthur's old trio of friends sat in the cafeteria. Gilbert had been gloating about some kind of 'tape' to his friends, and after pestering them, he got the two to watch. The footage was clear and… It was so obvious as to what was going on. Arthur gripping Alfred, the two meeting in kisses and caresses. The camera was slightly shaky, and Arthur's voice came first, whispering to the shorter boy, showering him with affection.

Antonio had to admit, he felt sick just watching it.

"I told you Arthur was gay," Gilbert gloated, closing the screen, and settled down into his seat. "I bet you he just dated those girls to cover up his boner for that little brat. I bet you they've already fucked—"

"Gilbert, shut up." Antonio interrupted. Oh, he felt queasy. This was wrong, so very wrong. This was no one's business but Arthur's, Alfred's, and whoever they wanted to tell. But here Gilbert was, videotaping them, and then telling the entire _world_. "I can't believe you did this."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Gilbert, you _recorded _them having a private moment, and then you went and showed it to the entire school before those two got here this morning!" Antonio yelled, his patience obviously drying up.

"_Hey, did you know Arthur Kirkland's gay?"_

"_What? No, he's not. He was with that one girl like three months ago—"_

"_No, seriously, check this out."_

"I can't believe you did this!" Oh, Antonio was furious. His blood was positively boiling. "Do you have any idea of what you've done?! Not only did you basically stalk those two, but you _told _the entire school about what they did, and showed them a _tape!"_

"What, so it's wrong for them to know Arthur's a flaming faggot?"

"Gilbert, if you don't stop using that word I swear to God I'll snap your neck right here and now." Antonio's voice had dropped in tone. It dripped with threat, and the anger that shone in those green eyes showed Antonio was not joking. Gilbert grew quiet, for once listening to what his friend had to say. "Did you ever, just once, think that Arthur didn't tell anyone for a reason? Gee, I don't know, maybe it was because people would bully him if they knew, like they're doing right now! Maybe he's afraid to tell people, maybe he doesn't like that label, you don't _know. _You don't know!"

The group jumped as two hands slammed down flat upon the cheap tabletop. Three pairs of eyes traveled upward, finding Arthur before them. Arthur's hands were shaking. He looked absolutely livid, his eyes a dark, furious green.

"Listen here, Beilschmidt," Arthur snarled, a finger finding its way into the scrawny boy's face. "I don't know what kind of sick, twisted game you're playing here, but I'm tired of your shit. I don't know what you did to prove to everyone what's going on between me and Alfred, but apparently, getting your damn nose broken wasn't enough to deter you, was it?"

The air between the two boys was thick. It was enough to suffocate, and Arthur's eyes narrowed. Gilbert just smirked at him, that same stupid, arrogant grin, and Arthur just couldn't take it.

"You know what? You, me, three-thirty, across the street. I'm going to beat your pasty little ass." Arthur smirked down at him. His lips curved so easily, showing just what he was up to, and his eyes, half-lidded, looked almost glazed over. His blood was boiling under his skin, but he knew better than to let Gilbert know that. No, that would give him too much of an advantage.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, Arthur glaring down at the pale boy. He suddenly smiled in a sickeningly sweet manner, and straightened up.

"Make sure you let people know, since you love spreading around everyone's business."

The table was quiet as Arthur vanished into the crowd.

Gilbert scoffed , rolling his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Can you believe this?" he asked rhetorically, reclining back a little. "Does that idiot really think he can beat me in a fight?"

"He's beaten you before," Antonio muttered. His chin resided in his palm as his elbow balanced on the tabletop. "And he punched you in the face so hard that he broke your nose. Or, did you forget about that already?"

"What's with the attitude?" Gilbert challenged. His eyes were locked onto the teen's tanned face, and Antonio merely rolled his eyes in response.

"Frankly, Gilbert, you're the problem here. You started this—"

"I did not!" Gilbert interjected, slamming a fist down on the table. "If that brat hadn't—"

"Gilbert, stop interrupting me!" Antonio practically yelled, patience running very thin. "Look. Arthur left, and you need to understand that he didn't 'betray' you. He found a group that he feels more comfortable with, and if anything, you should be happy for him! Are you really so insecure that you feel like Arthur backstabbed you? I've noticed with you, Gilbert, it's either your way or the highway. People are either your friend or they're your enemy; there is no in between. And the fact you're so egotistical and spiteful over something this small, it really makes me sick. I'm ashamed of you."

Francis and Gilbert blinked as the chestnut-haired teen stood up, book bag in hand.

"And where do you think you're going?" Gilbert snarled.

"None of your business," Antonio answered, shrugging on his backpack. "Please just leave me alone. You can find yourself a new friend."

The two boys remaining at the table fell into a stunned silence as Antonio left. The air felt heavy, suffocating them both under its weight. Gilbert looked to Francis, who said nothing at all.

And then there were two.

Meanwhile, Arthur occupied his time before class by searching for Alfred. He had to admit, he was worried about the boy. If people were bullying him, the most popular kid – well, previously the most popular – he could only imagine horror stories when it came to what the boy was currently going through.

He found Alfred and Ivan after a while; the two teens had seated themselves at a table in the corner of the cafeteria. They seemed so quiet, neither of them speaking at all, and Arthur knew the same trouble had reached them as well.

Arthur slowly sat down at the table, shedding his bag, and setting it next to his feet. Things felt suddenly too heavy. Alfred's head rose and Arthur looked into those beautiful eyes, only to feel the weight of the world bear down so harshly on his shoulders.

"Did… Did you tell them?" Alfred asked, slowly and cautiously. There were no tones of accusation in his voice, and Arthur knew the boy was not framing him. No, he was curious, wondering who dealt that painful hand of cards.

"No… Alfred, I wouldn't do something like that," Arthur sighed. "And I know you wouldn't do something like that to me, either. Ivan cares about you too much to tell. But, regardless, the most obvious choice was the one who did it."

Arthur didn't give a name, but they all knew perfectly well who he was referring to.

"Have they been harassing you badly?" Arthur asked softly.

Alfred shrugged inwardly, seeming uncomfortable. He drew into himself now, quiet and pathetic looking, and Arthur knew he was upset.

"Kinda… I think it's because Ivan is with me," Alfred said softly, and Arthur could understand the reasoning behind that. With someone as big as Ivan around, things were surely different. "I'm… I'm kinda scared to know what they'll do to me once I'm by myself."

"Hopefully nothing too bad…" Arthur answered, chest heaving with a heavy sigh.

This was so wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. No, they had tiptoed around so carefully, withholding affection and words just to keep the peace. It was terrible, it really was. Arthur didn't know what would happen if word leaked out beyond that of the school. He didn't know how Alfred's father would react if he knew – hell, he didn't even know how the man acted normally yet – or if he would do anything.

Arthur already knew what would happen if his family found out, and it made him sick to his stomach. His homophobic father surely wouldn't want him around. Arthur knew if the man didn't kill him, he'd be homeless and on a street corner at the very least.

"Well… Regardless, I cornered Gilbert about the situation," Arthur said. "He didn't object to doing it."

Alfred blinked at those words, before he seemed to cave in on himself even more. Those glassy, teary eyes were enough to make him feel like someone had punched him right in the gut.

"But… I did find a solution," Arthur continued, leaning forward on the table. "Or, perhaps the only one I could think of to shut that moron up."

He leaned toward them like it was some sort of secret. Alfred had to admit, he had never really seen that kind of mischief glimmer in Arthur's eyes before. A little shiver scaled his spine.

"Arthur… You're not planning on fighting with him again, are you?" Alfred asked worriedly. He watched as Arthur's eyebrows tightened up and his lips shifted, resembling something that looked almost like a pout. "Arthur…"

"Maybe. I mean come on, Alfred, I have to do _something_! It's not the best solution, or a permanent one, but it's action. He's gotta know how we feel, you know? Maybe if I hit him hard enough he won't be able to open that fat mouth of his."

"Where do you plan on doing this?" Alfred inquired. Man, he looked so young with a worried face. His bright blue eyes got so wide, making that baby face look just a bit rounder. "Arthur, I don't want you doing something like this and then winding up getting yourself suspended, or possibly arrested!"

"It'll be fine, Alfred," Arthur replied, giving him a real smile, one that was so genuine, pulling at the corners of his eyes and lips. "I mean, come on, I grew up with three older brothers. Not to mention if I do get busted, it'll so be worth it."

"Though, fight will not stop problem," Ivan chimed in, one of those big-boned fingers rubbing absently at his chin. "People still know about it…"

Arthur sighed, rubbing at his arm.

"Yeah… Yeah, they do… But I mean, I guess that's not the real problem to me. Yeah, they know, but it's like… Fine, I like girls, but I like guys too, is it really that bad? They know something else about me, I guess. I just… I didn't want people to know because of how they would react." He ran his hands through his bangs and cradled his face down into sweaty palms. "It just… I didn't want people making fun of me or spitting slurs into my face. I guess for me that's the real issue, but I can't control that."

To his surprise, he felt one of Alfred's warm hands settle upon him. He glanced over, finding a smile on those pink lips and a comforting glow in those wonderful eyes.

"It's like you told me before, though. If someone loves you, if they care about you, they aren't going to mind."

A gentle smile crossed Arthur's lips.

Alfred ran that warm hand lovingly against his arm, a glow that was so heartfelt radiating off the boy.

"You know, it possible they are acting like this from surprise," Ivan said, those eyes squinting a little in thought. "Try to change you back to 'normal', perhaps…"

"So what you're saying is basically to grab the bull by the horns?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow heavenward.

Ivan nodded at him, and it was then the light bulb clicked on above Arthur's head.

If people wanted to fight him about all this, he would have to just fight back twice as hard.

* * *

More people had showed up than Arthur had been expecting.

School had been hell. Once he and Alfred went their separate ways, all the harassment came hurling back once more. For him, it was mainly names. Slurs and harsh words tore against his ear drums, and people sure did like to push him now when he traveled down the halls or down the stairs.

Oh, but it was so much worse for Alfred, and Arthur knew it. Their odd little trio hadn't been apart for more than thirty seconds before someone had tripped Alfred and sent him to the floor.

That had been their day, and now here they were, standing in the field of grass and dirt across the street from their high school. Arthur stood in the center of a sea of bodies, all surrounding him in a circle. Gilbert stood opposite of him, working on stretching himself out. Arthur noticed that Francis stood behind him, but Antonio was – strangely – absent.

Oh, man. He was actually nervous. He had been in plenty of fights before but never in front of a crowd like this.

Arthur swiveled his head back, looking directly behind him. Ivan stood there, huge and square. Arthur noticed the top of his head stopped at a mark that was noticeably higher than everyone else's. So bloody _tall_ and Arthur didn't understand it.

And there was Alfred, too short to see. He was sitting on Ivan's big sturdy shoulders, arms wrapped loosely about his friend's neck. Ivan held on gently to those legs to give the boy extra support.

He wiped his palms on his shirt. His heart pounded in his chest. He barely realized they had started, barely registered his own movements, barely heard the roars of other kids in his ears. No, all he heard was the silence, and the sound of his own blood gushing through his ears.

His fist crunched against Gilbert's jaw. A kneecap found Arthur's stomach. They began moving wildly, violently, becoming a mess of fists and limbs. Fists smashed against bone, limb against limb, grit against grit.

Gilbert had smashed him in the left eye, and it was swelling up so fast Arthur couldn't keep it open anymore. In return Arthur had busted the boy's lip and he had to admit, the blood trailing down his chin made him look even paler.

They moved in no pattern, with no complete strategy. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. His chest was heaving. He didn't know how long they had been going at this now. Neither of them were backing down, and despite the previous rush of adrenaline, Arthur was getting tired.

A foot caught behind him and Arthur squawked loudly. He fell, collapsing backwards, and hit the ground hard. His shirt was covered in dirt now, his back throbbing, chest heaving with wild pants.

A strangled cry left his parted lips as a boot came crashing into his side. Gilbert stood above him, smirking, blood tumbling off his chin, staining his shirt.

The toe came again, and out of instinct, Arthur curled up on himself. He grabbed the ankle before Gilbert could pull it away, and Arthur managed to haul himself into a sitting position. Gilbert kicked at him with his other foot, and Arthur yanked as hard as he could on the foot still within his grip.

Down he fell, and it happened so fast. Gilbert didn't have the time to pick his head up, and Arthur grimaced at the resulting clunk his skull made when he hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet, armed with fists, but found the boy to be immobile. He was out cold, completely and utterly lost to the world, and Arthur smiled a bit to himself.

Half an hour later, he was now the one left standing.

"Arthur!" Alfred's voice came rushing into his ears, nearly drowned out by the screaming and bellowing of others.

Arthur let out a grunt as arms wrapped about him tightly. He stumbled backwards slightly, his footing so loose and his coordination weak. He looked down, breathing heavily as he found Alfred hugging him as tight as he could around the middle. Alfred was crying into his shirt, and although it hurt him to do it, Arthur laughed a little anyway.

He looked a mess, though, as he stood there in an ocean of bodies and dirt. His eye was swollen completely shut now. His nose was gushing like a faucet, though somehow not broken, and red, red blood spurted out like a waterfall all over his shirt. The dirt stains stood out so strongly on the fabric of his shirt and pants. His teeth were surprisingly all intact and hanging out in his jaw, which he was both surprised and very thankful for. His face was swollen up, purple and green and black, and it throbbed absently in tune with his pulse. His ribs and his back and his sides really hurt, positively throbbing, and he was sure the bones under the skin were bruised. He felt weak, sleepy, and he really just wanted to sit down somewhere, even on the very dirt under his feet.

Someone slapped him on the back and Arthur winced, closing his eyes for a moment. He forced them open, finding boys standing around him, actually praising him and Arthur didn't really know how to react. He just forced a smile – something that hurt him so much right now – and nodded a little.

"Gilbert got beat by some fag!" "Man, Gilbert got his ass beat, look at him!" "I bet he's not as spineless as you thought, is he?"

The responses weren't what Arthur had been expecting, but right now, he didn't really know what to think.

The crowd thinned. The groups of boys and girls began to leave, vanishing as they fled to the school parking lot to go home. Francis had focused on Gilbert, trying to heave him up, struggling on his own. He and Francis made eye contact, but only for a moment, before Arthur turned away to look at Ivan, as Alfred remained glued to his waist.

"Can we go home?"

His knees were shaking. It hurt so bad to stand up. He could feel his legs giving out on him, and he nearly collapsed to the ground before one of Ivan's huge arms snagged around his middle, maneuvering around Alfred's head.

"Alfred, you need to let go," Ivan ordered. He easily had the strength to support the both of them, but with Alfred being right in the way, it was hard to get a good grip on Arthur.

The boy complied, fidgeting a little as Ivan looped an arm underneath Arthur's armpit, draping one of the boy's arms across his own shoulders, offering him support. He took in majority of Arthur's weight and helped him walk. Alfred kept close to them, worry eating him alive. Arthur didn't look so good…

Ivan began leading the both of them toward the school parking lot, taking it slow. His nose wrinkled slightly as some of Arthur's blood got on his shirt. Gross.

"Is Arthur gonna be okay?" Alfred asked softly, and Ivan looked down at him. The boy looked scared out of his mind. Alfred had practically choked him during that fight. "He looks…bad."

He really did, though, and Ivan knew it. His face seemed to have taken the biggest beating of all, swollen and bruised already. Though, as they passed Gilbert and Francis, Ivan could tell Arthur was better off than the other. Arthur had really released all the anger he was harboring and pummeled it right onto that boy's face. Ivan really had no idea how Gilbert was going to function tomorrow.

"I'm sure he be fine, Alfred," Ivan responded gently. "He needs rest, but…he be fine."

They left Gilbert and Francis behind in the dust. It wasn't their problem. Arthur was their priority. They made it to Arthur's truck and Ivan paused, seeming to be trying to think of what to do. With Arthur having one eye swollen shut and with him being on the verge of falling asleep right then and there, it was a stupid idea to have Arthur drive. It'd be suicide.

"Arthur, give me your keys," Ivan instructed. Arthur began digging in his pockets and pulled them out, shakily handing them over to Ivan. Ivan grabbed them and then opened the back door, working on hefting Arthur into the backseat of the cabin.

"Ivan, you don't plan on driving his truck, do you?" Alfred asked, biting down on his lower lip roughly.

"Alfred, he can't drive! Look at him." Ivan sighed as he managed to get Arthur into the seat, and buckled him in. He found napkins in the door storage, and handed a wad to Arthur, instructing him to tend to his bloody nose. Arthur obeyed him, his good eye closing now. "I'll drive."

"Ivan… You've never driven a truck. You've barely driven a regular car, are you sure that's…?" Alfred asked, the question hanging off in the air. He supposed it was their only option. Alfred didn't know how to drive yet, so at the moment, with Arthur basically passed out in the seat, Alfred weighed his options. "Just… Please be careful. Go slowly."

"I know." Ivan said, working on hopping into the driver's seat. He had to be. If he got in a car accident with this thing Arthur would probably kill him. "I'll go slow. Can you sit in backseat with Arthur?"

Alfred didn't have to be asked twice. He wandered around to the other passenger door and hopped in. Ivan started the truck, and they began a slow, uneasy journey to Alfred's house. They would probably all crash there tonight. After all, Arthur was in no condition to be by himself, let alone in that hellhole of a house, and Alfred was still too shaken up about it to be alone either.

At some point Arthur soaked completely through the first wad of tissues and Alfred had to help him the second time around. The blood was finally slowing down though, and by the time they were halfway home, it had stopped.

Arthur leaned over, and rested his dirty head on Alfred's shoulder. He put majority of the weight against his temple, as his face was too bruised to touch.

"I can't believe you did that," Alfred said softly, looking down at his hands. "Arthur, that wasn't your brightest idea. Both of you got really hurt. Did you even really…you know, solve anything?"

"I showed that loudmouth who the boss is," Arthur replied. His voice sounded a little hoarse. It hurt to talk. He sighed and snuggled down against Alfred a little more. Alfred was so warm, and it made him sleepier. "The guys were impressed, yeah? Maybe now they'll leave us alone…we're not exactly what they thought we were, you know…?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I guess so." Alfred whispered.

They were quiet. Arthur's breathing sounded rough, and Alfred then realized just how much this took out of him. He was worried, terribly so, but if Ivan thought he'd be alright…

Hesitantly, Alfred moved his left hand. Arthur's right resided limply on the leather seat. After a moment, barely breathing, not sure of what to think, Alfred moved his hand over. His palm settled gently on top of Arthur's hand, and his chubby fingers laced so gently with Arthur's own.

Arthur laughed softly, and that was the last sound Alfred heard before the older teen fell asleep against his shoulder a few minutes later.

* * *

Chapter 13: End.


End file.
